


Private Chat

by DestinyIslandWanderer



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Angst and Romance, Class Differences, Drinking, Explicit Sexual Content, Feelings Realization, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Masturbation, Pining, Pre-Road Trip, Sex Work, Sexual Fantasy, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-03
Updated: 2020-09-10
Packaged: 2021-03-05 22:54:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 22,371
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25693132
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DestinyIslandWanderer/pseuds/DestinyIslandWanderer
Summary: Maybe if Noctis had realized he had feelings for his best friendbeforehe saw him live camming on a porn site things would’ve been a little easier.
Relationships: Prompto Argentum/Noctis Lucis Caelum
Comments: 218
Kudos: 381





	1. Chapter 1

It isn’t the kind of website a prince should be visiting. If anyone found out...hell, even if only his _dad_ found out, Noctis would be mortified beyond belief, especially because it’s not women he’s looking at, and he’s supposed to marry one some day.

Things are simpler this way, easier. The fantasy is more than enough to get him through, because it’s not like he has a crush on any _real_ guys anyway. It’s more the _idea_ of men he appreciates, and seeking them out online helps Noctis avoid the kinds of real-life temptations that could land him in the tabloids.

He scrolls through profile after profile. There are a few he recognizes, his favorite channels, but also more new ones than he can count.

He remembers what a _relief_ it was to discover live camming, to find people with real lives and personalities you could return to day after day, like having a relationship. Even though he knows it could all be an act, it doesn’t _feel_ that way, and that’s probably why he craves it so deeply.

And it’s good because that means Noctis will never go looking for sex outside of his arranged marriage, which means he’ll only ever have sex with one person, a woman, and that will be that. And he’ll just keep doing this in private.

No one cares about a prince being self-fulfilled or happy anyway. Well, they do (some of them do), but there are also things they care about more, and he can’t blame them because Ignis and Gladio would give up anything for him, and he can’t take that lightly. If their happiness is secondary because of him, then his happiness ranks somewhere abysmally low, and he’s pretty much accepted that. 

He uses a credit card that Ignis specifically gave him for purchases that were meant to be discreet, and if Ignis notices what he’s actually using it for, which he probably does (he notices everything), then he never says.

And it works for Noctis. It really does. It fills a lot of lonely hours.

The problem is that tonight none of his favorites are online, and he needs that little extra something, that adrenaline rush and dose of connection he never gets because Gladio and Ignis are like brothers to him and Prompto is his best friend, and none of them can supply the type of intimacy that leaves a hollow ache in his chest and an insatiable hunger somewhere beneath his ribs.

He’s intrigued enough to click when he sees a still-shot of a guy wearing a skimpy-cute Luigi costume that’s basically just faux overall straps attached to navy blue briefs with a tight green, sleeveless crop top under it.

The guy is thin but muscular with smooth, pale skin and freckle-dusted shoulders. He’s the exact build Noctis prefers, and the freckles are just a bonus. He likes to imagine he’s blonde, but it wouldn’t be game over if he were a redhead or brunette.

When the guy turns around revealing a round, plump ass that is both sexy and honestly kinda cute, Noctis is most definitely intrigued enough to stay.

The guy’s not showing his face, which is too bad, but Noctis respects it, respects someone wanting to keep their identity private, and besides, it means he can imagine whatever he likes.

The guy isn’t speaking, but he has some kind of punk music playing in the background, the kind of music Prompto listens to, and Noctis reaches a hand inside his boxer shorts to find he’s starting to get hard.

He sees the list of challenges and the token thresholds to be met for them to be performed, everything from taking off his clothes to anal play with toys.

Noctis doesn’t want anything for now, just wants to watch, so he throws some tokens in, no strings attached, and the guy types up a quick message to welcome him with a kiss emoji, and Noctis feels that little spark of recognition that assuages his appetite, soothes the ache momentarily. 

He sees too that some guys are being dicks, making the kind of comments that always make Noctis sad, so he throws in some compliments, saying how cute this cam star is and how those other guys can go to hell.

He’s rewarded with more attention as soon as the guy stops to use his keyboard, but mostly the cam star is just teasing the camera while he waits, hands gliding over his ass, squeezing his thighs occasionally.

And then one of the men gets crass, and the things he’s saying are making Noctis furious. He hates that he doesn’t know what this beautiful stranger with pale, freckled skin is thinking, doesn’t know if the words are hurting him or if he’s the kind of person who genuinely doesn’t care what other people think. Noctis assumes the worst, and he does something he generally doesn’t and pays the exorbitant fee for a private show, just to get this asshole off his back.

He’s playing the hero, and he knows it, and even as it makes him feel condescending, like some dirty sugar daddy with a savior complex, and even though he kinda hates how he has this secret power to throw money at bad situations to make them go away (a power he didn’t even know he had until he realized his best friend _didn’t_ ), he can’t _not_ do it, because he thinks it’s the right thing to do, and it’s better than half the frivolous things he throws his money away on anyway—new gaming systems and action figures and tons of junk food (that he buys even though Ignis already cooks for him). At least he can help someone else for once.

**_Chocoblow: Hey cutie. How r u?_ **

**_WaywardKnight: Good, u?_ **

**_Chocoblow: Good 😘 What can I do 4 u 2nite?_ **

Noctis sees a menu appear, listing all kinds of sexual acts he can buy, and he realizes he doesn’t want any of it. He’s not even hard anymore. He just wants to talk, wants a connection, to feel something, to make this guy’s night.

But that’s not the kind of thing you tell a cam star in a private chat, even if this guy probably already knows, probably has Noctis pinned as someone lonely and desperate because he’s just like everyone else.

**_WaywardKnight: I’m going to send u some tokens, but it’s a gift. U don’t have to do anything._ **

Fuck it. Noctis sends the maximum amount, an amount that could get this stranger to perform the dirtiest acts on his list, maybe even an amount that would allow Noctis to make up something dirty of his own. But he doesn’t want to. He really doesn’t. He just hopes this guy will accept it and leave it at that, take the money and not make a fuss over it.

**_Chocoblow: Srsly what can I do 4 u? Can be not on the menu and I’ll consider it 4 u 😘_ **

**_WaywardKnight: it’s ok. Just wanted to get that asshole off your back._ **

Noctis sees him typing, but for a long time no words appear on the screen, dots dance then disappear, then dance again, then disappear. Clearly, the guy doesn’t know what to say to that, and Noctis feels bad because it’s going one of two ways: he’s touched or he’s weirded out, afraid Noctis is one of those guys for whom acting the hero is not a genuine act but a threat leveled, emotional bartering for something he just doesn’t have the guts to ask for yet.

At the very least, he has to let him know it’s not that.

**_WaywardKnight: nbd. I’m just kinda bored. So do u really like video games or ?_ **

**_Chocoblow: oh yeah. Love video games. I have other outfits if u want me 2 play dress up 4 u? 😏_ **

**_WaywardKnight: all good. I like how u look now._ **

**_Chocoblow: thx 😘 do u want to get off together?_ **

Noctis thinks about the possibility. It’s not like he doesn’t know what this website is for, but the fact that the guy says _together,_ like Noctis can imagine it’s consensual and he’s not just paying for it...it makes it sound okay, even _good_ because he feels like he knows this guy even though he doesn’t.

He’s cute, he’s nice, he likes video games. That’s all Noctis needs to know—honestly all he _cares_ to know, so Noctis says yes and throws him a few more tokens just because he wants to. 

**_Chocoblow: thx so much!!! U really don’t have 2 send that much just 4 this. If u think of anything u want, tell me, k?_ **

He worries about what this guy is thinking. It seems like Noctis’s fears are correct, and he’s making this guy feel guilty instead of flattered. 

**_WaywardKnight: k_ **

**_Chocoblow: give me a sec ;) just gonna adjust the lighting 4 u, k? 😘_ **

**_WaywardKnight: k._ **

And when the guy’s adjusting his laptop camera, Noctis’s eyes catch on something he’s _definitely_ not supposed to see: the corner of a dresser with a little chocobo plush sitting on the edge of it.

_The corner of Prompto’s dresser, Prompto’s favorite chocobo plush._

He tries to tell himself _no_ , he’s just seeing things, but the problem is that hanging from its neck is the silver pistol necklace Noctis gave him for his birthday, the custom-made one that Prompto tried to give back saying it was way too expensive. 

It’s Prompto. He’s Prompto. Noctis’s best friend, Prompto. And Noctis is watching his best friend’s hands—those unmistakable hands with the nails all chewed down—how did he not notice that?

He’s watching his best friend’s hands dip into his waistband, teasing, before they return to the keyboard.

**_Chocoblow: U want to chat or just watch bb?_ **

Noctis doesn’t answer. He slams his laptop shut, and he realizes, all at once, with the force of a goddamn tidal wave, that there’s a reason why all his favorite cam stars look the same, and the reason is that he likes Prompto Argentum and not just as a friend.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...so I have never gotten _close_ to having this many subscribers on a story, and I’m really blown away! I really appreciated all your comments on chapter 1. Thank you so much! I hope you enjoy chapter 2!

He avoids Prompto for the next five days. He cancels their Friday night plans with a made-up excuse about reports Iggy wants him to read, which Prompto accepts with an understanding _lol, sorry dude._

Noctis thinks about him constantly. 

He realizes he has exactly one friend who isn’t bound to him by royal decree, and his feelings for that friend could disrupt their relationship for a number of reasons, the most obvious one being that Noctis is supposed to marry a woman, even if he doesn’t know which one yet.

Truly, he’s not supposed to date anyone, _especially_ not a guy. Then there’s the fact that even if he _could_ date his best friend, Prompto would need to not only share his feelings, but also be into guys, and Prompto talks about hot chicks like it’s his job, so that seems very unlikely. 

And yet all he can think about is how Prompto is kinda perfect for him, like more perfect than anyone else he could possibly imagine (not that Noctis has ever put himself out there to know if there could be anyone else).

He’s kept to himself for so long to avoid getting worn down by the endless string of people who only want to be close to him because of his social status. He learned his lesson—not to trust anyone—a long time ago, and Prompto’s the only one he’s let through, and he’s never once regretted it. 

In spite of the numerous obstacles, he looks for signs that Prompto might like him back. He can only think of one, and it becomes his singular fixation.

It was a really brutal night for Noctis. He’d had one of his recurring nightmares about his mother’s death. Even though they came less often as he got older, they still had the power to emotionally break him. Prompto had been asleep on the couch (he never took the bed, even if Noctis _insisted_ princes were capable of sleeping on couches), but he rushed to Noctis’s side. Without saying a word, he slipped under the covers and held Noctis where he lay curled up in a ball.

Noctis sobbed while Prompto comforted him for time uncountable, letting Noctis drench his shirt with tears and sorrow and snot. 

And when it was over and Noctis couldn’t cry any longer, he’d finally looked into Prompto’s eyes and told him _thank you for being such an amazing friend,_ and he swore Prompto had done _something—_ though to his unending frustration he couldn’t remember exactly what—that made Noctis believe maybe Prompto was going to kiss him.

He wishes he had a better memory, that he could’ve somehow known then that such a small and passing moment would one day be his only source of hope. He supposes your best friend maybe wanting to kiss you isn’t that big a deal until you decide you want to kiss them back.

He thinks about how incredible Prompto looks in his underwear even though he knows he shouldn’t.

And what’s weird is that Prompto _never_ takes off his clothes around Noctis in real life. He won’t even go to the pool with him or swimming in the lake, and when he changes into his pajamas, he always does so in the bathroom. Noctis has always assumed he’s self-conscious about the weight he lost or maybe just shy, so he can’t quite square these two people together: Prompto his best friend and Prompto the cam star.

He worries. A lot. Because he doesn’t think Prompto’s the kind of person who could handle the rude and vicious comments those internet trolls were leaving him.

In his experience, Prompto is so incredibly sensitive that Noctis has always needed to take special care of him, even when they're joking around. He’s hurt Prompto’s feelings without meaning to before because Prompto feels everything more deeply. He’s more sensitive, more vulnerable, than anyone Noctis has ever met.

There’s also the fact that Prompto is generous, _overly_ generous, like he’s always trying to compensate for the fact that he doesn’t have money so he offers himself up in other ways—his time, positivity, loyalty and adoration. Sometimes he sacrifices too much of himself, like the time he apologized to Iggy for skipping school to go to the arcade when Noctis was the one who convinced him to play hooky in the first place. 

Noctis is concerned that Prompto is doing things on his channel that he doesn’t want to do just because people are paying him, and he would never disappoint anyone, even a total stranger. He worries that Prompto never really wanted to become a cam star in the first place and is only doing it because he needs the money. 

And Noctis hates that, the idea that Prompto has to do something so out of character just to make ends meet when Noctis has a wallet full of cash and credit cards with no limit. It’s not fair. But Prompto wouldn’t take his money anyway. Noctis knows that because he’s tried.

Prompto’s menu of sex acts suddenly pops into his head, and he’s forced to imagine Prompto, so shy and sweet, doing things so _dirty._

He always assumed Prompto was a virgin, just like him, assumed that if he _wasn’t_ Noctis would be the first to know because they’re best friends and they talk about everything. 

He wonders who Prompto might’ve slept with and when, and if he _didn’t_ sleep with anyone, how could he pull it all off so well? How could he be successful enough at camming to fill an entire chat room the way he did a few nights ago?

Prompto, his best friend, who likes dumb drinking games and bad horror movies and spills on himself almost constantly, also uses anal plugs and dildos and goodness knows what else, _in front of an audience._

He feels guilt hit his gut for prying into Prompto‘s personal life, and he decides he’s going to delete his cam account right then. He’ll tell Prompto… _someday_ (okay, maybe never), and he’ll just pretend like none of this happened. 

He opens his laptop, and it’s unfortunate that the first thing he sees when he does is the last thing he saw when he closed it five days ago. A private chat window. There’s no more Prompto filling his screen, but there are messages from him.

**_Chocoblow: everything ok?_ **

**_Chocoblow: if ur not into it, we can try something else._ **

**_Chocoblow: I’ll leave the chat so it doesn’t keep charging u._ **

**_Chocoblow: come back any time qt. I’ll take a rain check 😘_ **

And just then, a notification pops up on his screen stating that Chocoblow has gone live, and Prompto fills his screen again, and Noctis just fucking dies when he sees what Prompto is wearing. Brain short circuits. He’s not sure how the fuck he could possibly look away.

Prompto is Misty from Pokémon.

Tight and tiny denim shorts, a yellow crop top, red suspenders. It’s legitimately the hottest thing Noctis has ever seen (and he’s seen a lot). He’s been trying _not_ to have sexual fantasies about Prompto, but right now he’s just gawking, mesmerized, completely enthralled.

The outline of Prompto’s nipples are showing through the thin, yellow fabric, and it looks like he has piercings, and Noctis never thought that would be something he’s into, but holy fuck it _is,_ and he’s hard already, watching his friend who doesn’t know he’s watching, and he can’t. stop. watching. 

He actually jumps in his seat when he hears the chat notification ping.

**_Chocoblow: hey ur back! Hope I didn’t scare u away b4._ **

Noctis stares at the message, horrified. He thinks of the best way to say _it’s me, your best friend, Noct,_ and he’s coming up empty.

Instead he picks up his phone and scrolls to his texts from Prompto. He guesses part of him just needs to know, beyond all doubt, that this is real because the longer he stares, the crazier it all seems. He types, _hey, what r u doing rn?_

He hears it. Distinctly. The ring tone Prompto chose for him years ago: “I Just Can’t Wait to Be King” from _The Lion King_ ( _it's totally funny, dude)._

He watches Prompto’s hands disappear off screen, probably texting somewhere above his laptop, and then Noctis feels his phone vibrate.

_nothing really, hbu? wanna hang out? I can come over in like two hours?_

His eyes dart between the two messages from Prompto, trying to decide which one to answer, trying to determine if he’s a good person or not, if he’s honest and honorable and a good friend who can resist delicious temptation in the heavenly form of denim shorts and red suspenders.

He’s staring at his phone, just beginning to type, when he hears the sound of a milestone of tokens being reached, and that means Prompto is going to do something, means someone _paid him_ to do something, and Noctis watches helplessly as Prompto unzips his shorts to reveal tight red underwear that outline his junk, and it’s so fucking sexy, the way he starts stroking himself through his clothes, getting steadily harder, and Noctis’s mind is ablaze with a pure adrenaline high of desire like he’s never felt before.

He imagines this show is just for him, that Prompto’s right here with him, that he chose this outfit because he knows how much Noctis loves Pokémon and wanted to surprise him.

On his laptop screen, Prompto unclips the suspenders and glides his hands seductively down his neck and chest, dipping them into his underwear, teasing, before he removes them entirely, and now Noctis can see every gorgeous inch of Prompto in high definition, and the things he wants to _do_ to that body—touch, kiss, squeeze, fuck, _devour._

As if Noctis’s thoughts were his invitation, Prompto dips down the camera and sinks to his knees, legs open as he strokes himself in just the tight little crop top that shows his nipples with a little matching pokeball sweatband on one wrist that Noctis just noticed.

Noctis feels like his entire body is radiating electricity. He’s watched porn before, obviously, seen all kinds of things, but he’s never been this turned on, this absolutely consumed by desire, an overwhelming need that spreads from the tips of his fingers to the depths of his chest.

The things he would do to Prompto, _for_ Prompto, if he was right here in front of him, if this was really all for him, if Prompto was his boyfriend.

Noctis wasn’t going to touch himself, he was going to draw the line at that, but his jeans feel so unbearably tight, he _has to_ or he will combust from the pressure.

He unzips his pants and pulls down his underwear and starts stroking, imagining Prompto showing up to his front door right now wearing that outfit, knowing Noctis will be the one to take it off.

He closes his eyes, and he can picture it: the cheeky smile Prompto would wear, the way his face would color with blush as he saw the way Noctis was looking at him.

He paints himself not as Noctis the Virgin, but Noctis the Experienced, full of confidence and charm, Noctis who knows _exactly_ what he’s doing as he pulls Prompto inside, shoves the door closed behind them and pushes Prompto against the wall so he can touch him.

No place is off limits because they’ve done this before, and he knows how much Prompto wants him. He strokes faster, picturing himself removing Prompto’s suspenders and tearing off that tight little shirt so he can take one of Prompto’s nipples in his mouth. 

He fantasizes about what Prompto sounds like when he moans.

He doesn’t have to imagine it for long because Prompto the Cam Star _actually does it._

Noctis opens his eyes to watch and listen as Prompto’s moans grow louder, and he can picture Prompto’s face even if he can’t see, blushing as he bites his bottom lip, eyes closed, lost to pleasure.

He mimics Prompto’s pace as he touches himself, and he’s coming in seconds, sperm shooting out of him so hard, a little bit of it lands on his cheek.

He has a moment of surprise that Prompto isn’t coming too, as if his fantasy was real and they were really getting off together.

He feels one last pleasant shiver race down his spine, the greatest sexual satisfaction he has _ever_ felt, before the guilt sets in, hard and heavy.

His stomach lurches as he looks at the evidence of his betrayal sticky on his hand, and he hears the screen chime again because another token threshold has been reached. Prompto has another act to perform.

Noctis doesn’t wait to see what it is.

He’s a terrible friend, and he can never face Prompto again. He’s never going to tell him. He’d rather Prompto think he died than explain to him, _I watched you jack off without your permission, and by the way, I made sure it was you before I did it._

He’s not sure how long it’s been by the time he’s laying in bed, ruminating over it, not quite crying but feeling like he _could,_ when his phone buzzes with a text.

_everything ok, dude? did u get my text about coming over? i took THE BEST picture of u last week. u have to promise u won’t delete it when u see tho._

He doesn’t respond and eventually he hears his phone ring, but he can’t answer it, so he lets it go to voicemail instead, and he can’t bring himself to listen to the voicemail either. Eventually he sees texts and calls from Iggy and ignores those too.

He doesn’t know how much later it is when he hears a knock on the door, a soft knock, a knock so gentle it _has to be_ Prompto because Iggy knocks like he’s trying to break down the door (okay so maybe he’s caught Noct in a few compromising positions and wants to be sure he makes himself known) and Gladio just barges right in.

If he didn’t know it was Prompto from the knock, he would definitely know it from the soft voice he hears.

“Hey Noct, it’s me. I just had a bad feeling when you didn’t respond to my calls, and I wanted to be sure you’re okay. Iggy said he thought you were home, so I told him I’d check on you?”

He knocks again, and Noctis is standing in the hallway, staring at the door, imagining his best friend behind it, a best friend who cares about him so much he walked 45 minutes from his house on the outskirts of Insomnia just to check on him, and he’s never felt worse about himself in his life.

But no matter how guilty he feels, he can’t bring himself to open the door, not until he hears Prompto’s voice again. “Iggy? Hey, I’m here, but he’s not answering. I’m worried. He’s been weird all week, but I just have this feeling…”

Noctis thinks it all through, how Prompto will stay until Ignis shows up, and then Noctis will have to explain to two people why he hasn’t been answering his texts or calls for hours.

So he takes a slow, deep breath, something Iggy taught him to do when he’s anxious, and he opens the door, and Prompto looks terrible, like he’s been worried sick.

“Hey Iggy? He’s okay,” Prompto says before he hangs up the phone. “I’m so glad you’re alright. You had me worried, dude.”

Noctis can’t even look him in the eye.

“You okay, Noct?”

What can he say to that? He doesn’t say anything. 

Eventually Prompto asks if he can come in, as if Noctis would ever tell him no, and he shuts the door behind them.

“Hey, let’s, um...should we sit down? And you can tell me what’s going on?” Prompto asks, hesitant like he’s terrified he’s going to say the wrong thing.

Noctis nods, and then Prompto’s sitting on one side of the couch, Noctis on the other, wishing he could ask Prompto to leave, but knowing it would be rude to send him home now that it’s getting dark when Prompto doesn’t live in a very safe neighborhood.

“Noct, seriously. You’re freaking me out, dude.”

He hears the shuffle as Prompto scoots closer to him, until their thighs are almost touching.

“Is it your mom again?” he whispers.

Noctis breaks down. It’s visceral and immediate because somehow thinking about his mom in this already horrible situation makes him feel this repulsive mix of guilt and self-pity that shakes him to his core.

Prompto starts stroking his back, and Noctis makes himself small and buries himself in Prompto’s chest.

His sobs only get worse when he remembers the person comforting him is the person whose trust he betrayed, a person he wants so badly but will never have. 

Eventually he can’t cry anymore, even if he’s still screaming inside, so all that’s left is a low and unsettling feeling in his gut and a long silence.

“We don’t have to talk about it,” Prompto soothes. “Maybe you should just sleep it off. I’ll stay the night if that’s okay? If you want me to?”

Noctis nods, no energy to do anything but agree.

“Maybe,” Prompto hesitates, “maybe I should sleep next to you. Nothing...um _like that,_ just in case you need something or, uh, want to talk?”

Normally Noctis would find it so endearing how Prompto trips over his words when he’s nervous or thinks he’s asking too much, but now it breaks his heart a little because once Prompto knows the truth, Noctis might never get to hear him talk like this again.

“Hey, um, got something to show you,” Prompto offers. “Maybe it’ll make you feel better. It’s that picture I mentioned.”

Noctis watches him pull his camera out of his bag and flip through the pictures, his tongue peeking out of his mouth as he searches—so cute, always so cute.

Noctis is beginning to see how he should’ve realized his feelings sooner because he’s always adored Prompto’s little mannerisms and quirks to the point that he knows them all by heart. 

“Here,” Prompto announces, handing Noctis the camera.

Noctis remembers this moment. One week ago, though it feels like much longer.

He was sitting in the grass at the park, and a neighborhood cat had approached him. He’d asked Prompto if it was safe to pet him, and Prompto said _it’s fine, I do it all the time,_ so Noctis did, and the image Prompto caught is of Noctis smiling gently as the cat’s front paws rest on his knee. It looks like the cat is grinning too.

It’s a really sweet moment, and Noctis thinks about how innocent he was then, as if it were years ago instead of days. 

He wonders if he told Prompto what he saw and how he felt _before_ his second transgression tonight if it would’ve all been okay. 

“You don’t like it, huh?” Prompto teases. “You never like pictures I take of you.”

“Oh c’mon, Prom, it’s not like your _pictures_ are bad. I just think _I_ look bad,” he says, reiterating a point he’s made a thousand times, “but I actually like this one.”

“Score! I’ll develop it for you,” Prompto grins.

Noctis grins back because he can’t help it. Prompto is just so bright and enthusiastic, it’s hard not to join him in his optimistic view of the world, a view Noctis never knew existed until they met.

They brush their teeth together because Prompto keeps all kinds of extra stuff at his place, and then Prompto waits outside while Noctis gets into his pajamas before Prompto gets into his. When they’re in bed together, he feels Prompto’s hand tracing gentle lines down his back.

“Just let me know if ya need anything, Noct. Like seriously, dude. _Anything._ ”

When Noctis doesn’t say anything, he reiterates, “You will, right?”

“Yeah, Prom. Thanks...I seriously don’t deserve you.” He says it to assuage his own guilt, but he has to admit it feels good to tell the truth.

“Hey, don’t say that. I don’t deserve you either. Dude from the sticks befriends royalty? I’m like a regular Cinderella. I mean, seriously, what is the thread count on these sheets?!”

Noctis lays on his back and looks up at Prompto who’s propped on one elbow. He’s close, like Noctis could lean in and kiss him close, and it troubles him how much he wants to.

And what’s even more weird is he recognizes that same look in Prompto’s eyes as before. How could he have forgotten? It’s the look Prompto had the last time Noctis thought they were going to kiss. He realizes it’s the tender expression in Prompto’s eyes, that unconditional adoration that Noctis has craved his entire life, and he’s mesmerized by it, totally captivated by the possibilities he sees there, laid out before him in that guileless, blue-violet gaze on a face illuminated by gentle moonlight.

Noctis never imagined he could feel this way, so safe and lost at the same time. Prompto is an anchor, keeping him grounded, holding him in this moment. He feels like he’s happily sinking, drowning in blue eyes, before he looks away and turns to his side, facing away from that beautiful temptation, because he’s just had an image float into his head of Prompto with his legs spread and a yellow crop top, and he can’t reconcile everything he’s feeling, and he definitely can’t think about how he’s betrayed his best friend right now. 

“Night, Noct,” Prompto whispers, and Noctis wonders if he sounds disappointed or if that’s just Noctis projecting.

Regardless, he feels a hand squeeze his shoulder, and somehow, even though he thinks having Prompto sleeping next to him should be putting him on edge, all he feels is a deep sense of comfort as he drifts off to sleep.

He wakes up at 3am and breaks his promise to Prompto by not telling him what he needs, because even if he had the courage to ask, he knows what he really needs can never be his.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for the love and support you’ve bestowed on me! I feel positively spoiled! Thank you!

He wakes up to an empty bed, and as soon as he remembers who once filled it, he experiences a pang of disappointment, even though the evidence of Prompto is still there in the indent on his pillow.

Moments later, his best friend appears carrying a plate of something... _interesting._ He’s smiling as he hands it over.

“Get this: it’s a _waffle_ stuck between two Pop-Tarts: a Pop-Tart sandwich!” Prompto beams.

“Looks disgusting,” Noctis comments, even though he’s smiling right back.

“Not gonna lie, I feel sick after eating mine, but dude, it actually tastes amazing. Just don’t expect the good feeling to last too long,” he sighs, laying down at Noctis’s side with his legs hanging off the edge of the bed.

Noctis takes a bite. Prompto’s right. Not bad.

“Is there syrup in this?” he asks.

“Yup. And butter. Like _a lot_ of butter.”

Noctis takes another bite. Yeah, he can tell.

“Soooo?” Prompto asks.

“Love it,” Noctis proclaims. “Don’t tell Iggy I ate this though.”

“I gotchu, bro. Told Iggy I was gonna take care of you today.”

“And he believed you?!”

“Not _exactly,_ ” Prompto replies, “but I insisted. We need a Best Friend Day.”

Noctis is grinning as he takes another bite of his Pop-Tart sandwich. “Best Friend Day” is something Prompto invented years ago, and it basically translates to 24 hours in pajamas, playing video games, ordering multiple rounds of take out, and drinking from dusk to dawn. It’s just what Noctis needs.

He thinks about how no one else can take care of him the way Prompto does, not even Iggy (as hard as he tries). Prompto always knows exactly what Noctis needs, even when Noctis doesn’t, and he wonders if it’s just simple intuition or something Prompto actively works to achieve. Either way, Noctis can’t help but feel lighter because he’s sure he would still be hiding under his covers in the dark if left to his own devices, and he’d stay that way until Ignis came to his rescue. Sometimes he just can’t face the days by himself. 

He tries to be discreet as he glances down at Prompto laying by his side. His eyes wander to Prompto’s chest, searching for the outline of those piercings he knows are there, but he can’t see them. He wonders if Prompto always wears little crop tops under his clothes to hide them (with a regrettable amount of interest).

He feels his cheeks grow warm, and his eyes dart back to Prompto’s face to find he’s returning his gaze. Their eyes meet for just a moment before they both look away. Noctis wonders if Prompto saw how hard he’s blushing, and then he remembers why he couldn’t sleep last night.

A fresh wave of shame churns in his stomach.

“Don’t get sad on me again, dude!” Prompto urges as he sits up. He adds, more seriously, “Unless...unless you wanna talk about, um, last night?”

Noctis shakes his head because no, he definitely doesn’t. He never wants to talk about it or think about it ever again. He wants everything to return to exactly how it was a week ago, when Prompto was just his best friend and that’s it, because when he thinks about his feelings for Prompto, it all comes flooding back in waves of helpless desperation: his sexuality, his marriage, that horrible thing he did.

They’re good friends. _Best friends._

He takes a deep breath before he tries another bite.

“It’s good, right?” Prompto asks.

“Oh yeah,” Noctis agrees through a mouth stuffed with artificial sugar, “s’great.”

* * *

  
  
“Think this is expired?” Prompto asks, his eyes searching one of the many bottles he’s taken out of Noctis’s fridge.

“Nah, Iggy throws out all the expired stuff.”

“Oh to have a personal advisor to clean out your fridge,” Prompto sighs. “You don’t wanna _know_ how many times I’ve drank expired milk, dude.”

Noctis laughs even though he always feels a tinge of guilt about how Prompto has literally no one to take care of him and never has—absent parents and no extended family. No money either, or at least not enough.

Well, maybe _now_ he has money, with the camming, Noctis thinks hopefully, then balks at the thought and quickly changes the subject. “You gotta promise you’ll make your shots better than last time. I almost vommed.”

“Duuudee, you can’t even say that! That pickle juice thing you made was the _worst_ thing I’ve ever tasted!”

Prompto retreats to his own little section of the kitchen countertop, his back turned to Noctis, hiding whatever treachery he has planned.

Noctis is honestly trying to make his shots taste good today, because he feels like he owes Prompto one, but since he forgot to order groceries like Ignis asked him to, his options are limited.

He goes for classics. Vodka cranberry and rum and coke. Boring, but not offensive. Hmmm...not very creative though. Prompto will be disappointed. Half the fun of their Mario Kart drinking game is the surprise factor. They mutually promised each other _never_ to taste their concoctions beforehand so they couldn’t cheat and make something purposefully good _or_ bad except by accident.

Noctis does his best and splits up his shots, half for him, half for Prompto.

“You done?” he asks before he turns around.

“Yup,” Prompto says, and they join at the counter looking at their multi-colored, (probably) disgusting display of haphazardly mixed drinks, four for each of them. Each ⅓ alcohol, ⅔ whatever the fuck.

Prompto invented this game. They’d tried regular “Beerio Kart” where you downed a beer before each round (because you’re not allowed to “drink and drive”—Prompto and Iggy got a kick out of that rule), but both of them got way too bloated afterwards, so Prompto decided they should raid the fridge instead, making mystery shots for each other out of whatever they could find. Like most things Prompto’s wondrous imagination touches, the new rules make the game way better than the original.

They sit down to their first round, shots laid out on plates on the coffee table in front of them. Noctis is always Peach (started as an inside joke and now he can’t seem to play any other character) and Prompto as Luigi. Noctis tries very hard not to let his imagination get carried away with that one, desperately trying not to remember how cute Prompto looked in his skimpy little costume. The alcohol will most certainly help distract him, he assures himself, though he’s hardly convinced.

By the time they’ve finished the first round, Noctis feels pleasantly buzzed and bold enough to look over at Prompto and let his mind stray a little, indulging in a brief fantasy of Prompto taking his shirt off for absolutely no reason. He shakes the thought away. 

_Best friends._

* * *

He maintains control through three more rounds, forcing his mind to concentrate on the game, even though he’s lost every cup so far thinking about who he’s got sitting next to him.

He tries to focus instead on acting like he always does around Prompto, teasing and laughing, like it’s no big deal to just hang out, like it’s not killing him wondering if Prompto could ever like him back, like he doesn’t wish he could just tell Prompto the truth and learn he feels the same way and make out with him already.

His desires pull at him every second, needy and insistent. Noctis just can’t stop fixating on little things that he’s never actively noticed before, like the way his hair looks so cute when it’s unstyled and how he’s hot even in sweatpants and a t-shirt.

“Uh, you okay Noct?” Prompto asks. Noctis didn’t realize how long he’s been quiet. “Wanna start another round or…?”

Noctis can’t seem to piece together a normal response. These mindless conversations had once been so simple to maintain, so positively mundane and meaningless, he’d never had cause to overthink them. Never stopped to think he had a mega-hot dude alone with him in his apartment _all the time,_ one who even occasionally stayed the night.

Okay, he _did_ know that Prompto was hot before, but it was a realization that snuck up on him so slowly over the years that he didn’t have to pick it apart because it didn’t matter if your _best friend_ was hot.

But when your _crush_ was hot and you’ve seen them practically naked and jacking off and you _liked_ it, and you want more than anything to see it again...

“You _sure_ everything’s okay, dude?”

Noctis feels a reckless compulsion to tell Prompto what he knows, because it’s becoming clear that no matter how hard he tries to hide it, Prompto will know something’s off. But the words simply don’t come.

“Just had a long week, I guess,” he responds instead, and the good thing about Prompto, the thing Noctis can always count on, is that he won’t push it, won’t make Noctis talk if he doesn’t want to, not like Gladio and Iggy who pester him like it’s their job (which it kinda is).

“When’s the pizza gonna get here again?” Prompto asks, changing the subject like the angel that he is.

“Should be any second…”

“I’ll pay,” Prompto offers, reaching for his bag.

“No worries, already did.”

“Noooct! You said you’d let me pay next time.”

“No big deal, Prom. Not my money anyway.”

He can tell Prompto’s still a little distressed about Noctis paying because he always is, but Noctis just can’t see why Prompto should be the one to pay. Noctis has piles of money he didn’t even earn. Thirty gil spent on cheap pizza and cheesy bread will have absolutely no impact on the royal coffers. 

But Prompto can’t see it that way. Maybe that’s something Noctis likes about him, that he still wants to make things fair, to act like it’s all equal, pretend like Noctis _isn’t_ a prince because Noctis honestly wishes he wasn’t. 

The doorbell rings, and Noctis has never felt happier.

He accepts the pizza but drags out the interaction with the pizza guy, asking if he got the extra dipping sauces and sodas and opening the boxes to double-check all the toppings are right.

It’s the kind of elitist shit he would normally never be caught dead doing because he doesn’t want to be perceived as some entitled royal. He already knows they send the manager to deliver when the Prince of Lucis orders pizza. 

But he just needs another few seconds away from the racing worries that are starting to catch up to him, the anxiety he feels around the person who usually keeps him calm.

He stops and takes a swig from a bottle of vodka in the kitchen, adjusting himself to hide what he’s doing from Prompto, and he gets what he wants from it, a little extra buzz, as he settles next to Prompto on the couch with the pizza boxes in hand. Prompto pulls a movie that he got from the library out of his backpack.

Noctis agrees to watch it without looking to see what it is, and then they’re just two best friends, eating pizza and watching a movie. 

Except normally they’d be chatting and laughing and barely paying attention because they’d have so much to say to each other, but right now it’s eerily silent. They’re actually _watching_ the movie for once, or pretending to, in Noctis’s case. 

He chews, but he can’t taste a thing. He eats because its the normal thing to do, but it’s all just to keep up pretenses, and then, silently, he departs to the kitchen, out of sight, and he pours himself another shot.

Noctis stares at the back of Prompto’s head. He watches him set his plate aside and rest his elbow on the armrest before taking a sip of soda.

Noctis feels the alcohol working just as intended, sending a vital warmth to cloud his mind, providing the courage he needs to indulge his restless desires.

He has Prompto all alone in his apartment, and that’s all he can think about.

He approaches the couch, and he hesitates for just a second before he sits next to Prompto, close, so close he can smell that beautiful scent that is uniquely Prompto. He nuzzles his face into Prompto’s chest, and Prompto responds just like he hoped, gently putting an arm around him.

“Hey Noct,” he says, and the fondness in his tone nourishes Noctis, brightens his expectations, gives him hope.

There’s a gentle thumb tracing delicate circles on his shoulder. It feels safe and deeply comforting, so natural and right, being in Prompto’s arms. 

It’s not even sexual until he feels his cheek graze one of those pierced nipples, and the nipple is _erect,_ and the word ignites a feeling that compels him to lift his face to gaze at Prompto, gorgeous in the soft light of the paused television.

His heart starts to race, his blood pulsing at an untenable pace, visceral and intoxicating.

“Prom,” he whispers, and Prompto does just as he hoped, staring back at him, his ethereal face illuminated beautifully. Noctis can see the contrast of every freckle. “You smell nice,” he says because he can’t say what he’s really thinking because it’s too much.

“Thanks, Noct,” Prompto replies, but it comes out shaky, and he notices the way Prompto’s brow furrows as he looks away, like something’s bothering him, but he won’t say what.

Noctis can’t focus on it too long because his eyes have drifted to the curve of Prompto’s neck, and it’s so _tempting_. Noctis feels compelled to press his lips to the tender flesh just below his ear where he can smell that delectable scent that he aches to memorize. He didn’t know it could feel this good to get close to someone, that he could want someone this much.

He always thought longing was a vague emotion, a nagging desire flung into the void, not hitting on anything that could ever satisfy it because it wasn’t possible to satisfy. He’d never experienced it like this before, bent on a single hope, directed with precision towards a real person who could finally fulfill it.

He feels himself disappearing into the precious novelty of a blossoming sense of comfort he never imagined existed. 

He presses his lips to the hollow of Prompto’s throat, and he feels Prompto’s body tense at the movement as he lets out a tender gasp of surprise, but he doesn’t move a muscle in response. He waits. 

Noctis’s hand finds its way to Prompto’s thigh which he squeezes, relishing the solidness of Prompto in his grasp.

He presses another kiss, open-mouthed this time, and Prompto gasps again, and he feels Prompto’s fingers clutch his own.

Noctis is reenacting bits and pieces from his favorite love scenes, kisses and caresses he’s only ever practiced on the back of his hand, small bits of pleasure he’d always craved to give someone, and he’s so glad he practiced for this, to make it good for Prompto.

Prompto doesn’t push him away or speak at all. _He likes it or he would say something_ , Noctis reasons. _He could push me away but he isn’t._

_Please please, let it be that._

Because there’s also the distinct possibility, hazy in his dulled subconscious, that Prompto won’t push him away even if he doesn’t want him, because he cares about their friendship that much, because, unlike Noctis, Prompto doesn’t have anyone else, and he knows that Prompto would do absolutely anything for him for precisely that reason.

And Noctis thinks, really thinks, about what he’s doing—how he has Prompto’s hand gripped in his and how he’s got lips to his throat, and Prompto is entirely still, unmoving, like he’s biding his time, waiting it out until it’s over, and it hits him in the pit of his gut that Prompto doesn’t want this at all, has never wanted it, and, worst of all, will never want it. But he’ll never say that. 

“Sorry, I’m sorry,” Noctis pleads into Prompto’s chest because he’s too terrified to look in Prompto’s eyes and see what a mess he’s made.

He retracts his hand and stands, not looking back, and he paces, trying to calm his brain, which still fixates on what it would be like if he could kiss Prompto the way he wants to and have Prompto kiss him back, trying not to think about how much power and control he has to do so, how last night he could use his money to get Prompto to do whatever he wants, but now he can’t.

“Sorry,” he repeats again, his voice catching like he’s going to cry, and he just doesn’t want to show weakness and test the lengths Prompto will go to to make him happy, to see if he would let Noctis kiss him and touch him and not tell him no because he cares about him that much, and because he has no one else.

“Hey Noct,” Prompto says, and it comes out so weak and pathetic, it confirms every one of Noctis’s fears.

“You don’t have to say anything,” Noctis insists. “We’re cool...I just...I drank too much.”

He needs to end this and get them back on track because he can’t lose Prompto and what they have. Better to have a friend than no one.

He knows he fucked up, knows he did this all wrong, should’ve just talked to him like a normal person, but it’s too much for words, the overwhelming pressure of the emotions he can’t contain.

His heart is so eager and ready to confess every fantasy from the blatantly sexual to the painfully mundane, like imagining Prompto’s shoes sitting in the entryway when he gets home.

He knows, deep down, that he could convince Prompto, even command him, to ignore every concern and obstacle and do what Noctis wants. He’s always had that control even if he won’t exercise it.

He finally looks at Prompto, shrinking into his couch, and the sight quiets the beating of his heart. Noctis gets the impression that the sorrow he feels is just a small fraction of what Prompto’s experiencing by seeing Noctis in pain.

“Do you think maybe, um, like, maybe...do you want me to go home?” Prompto asks, and Noctis knows he’s being a little desperate when he looks at him, urging him to stay. Prompto gives into his unspoken request, adding a weak, “unless you want me to stay?”

Noctis does. Of course he does. But if he’s gonna stay, he wants Prompto in his arms, in his bed, kissing him, holding him, reaching for him, and since he can’t have that...

“Yeah, maybe it’s better if you...Yeah...At least let me get you a cab.”

“No, I—“

 _“Please_ , Prom,” Noctis insists, “it’s not safe this time of night.”

“Okay,” Prompto whispers, though Noctis can tell it’s not easy for him to give in. He’s probably only agreeing because of the guilt that’s already weighing on him.

Regardless, he lets Noctis call a cab.

They’re silent as they exit the apartment and enter the elevator. The ride is excruciating. Under normal circumstances, they’d be pulling out their phones to shove in a few more seconds of King’s Knight, so it makes eyeing Prompto on the opposite side of the elevator feel even more foreign and wrong.

And when they exit the building, he notices how Prompto hesitates outside the cab, like he’s going to say something, but he doesn’t, doesn’t even say goodbye.

They share a glance, one Noctis could fall into if he let himself, and then it’s over, and the doors shut, and he watches him go.

Noctis walks to the elevator with his hands in his pockets. He thinks maybe it’s just shock that propels him all the way back to his apartment.  
  
  


* * *

He tries to sleep for over an hour. It doesn’t work, so he walks to the living room and sees the pizza crusts and drinks and everything Prompto left behind. He glances at his laptop, the glow of the keyboard a beguiling temptation.

Noctis stares, a battle of wills born of utter despair.

If he could just _see_ Prompto....This will be his last time, one final pleasure before he succumbs himself to a lifetime of friendship that could’ve been true love. 

He opens his laptop, and there he is, wearing nothing special, just a tight purple crop top and black shorts. 

**_Chocoblow: Having a rough night everyone. Hoping u can make me feel better ;)_ **

A dozen messages pop up at once assuring him that they’re ready to do as he asks, and Noctis feels a swell of pride watching Prompto interact with his fans, seeing how much people rely on him just like Noctis does, thinks how Prompto is so shy in real life but in this chat room, he has everyone’s eyes on him, and he deserves it. He’s always thought Prompto could be devastatingly charming if only he only had more confidence, and in this fictitious world, he does. 

But the longing is still there, insistent in Noctis’s chest, the desire to have Prompto all to himself.

His finger hovers over the button, and he clicks.

**_You have entered a private chat._ **


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading and commenting and all the things! I remain very grateful to all of you for getting on this Torture Train to Angst Town with me! All aboard!

Noctis’s hand is shaking, and he can feel perspiration rising in the center of his palm. He can still go back on it, slam his laptop shut and try to sleep again. 

But then he thinks about how he’ll never get to tell Prompto all the things he loves about him, words of adoration and praise that will remain buried somewhere deep within his lungs and slowly steal his breath if he doesn’t say them aloud.

He’s thankful when he hears a notification ping.

**Chocoblow: welcome back qt! sorry we couldn’t chat the other night. Happy to do whatever 4 u now tho :)**

**WaywardKnight: you look beautiful.**

**Chocoblow: awww thanks! ;) do u want me to put something else on 4 u?**

No. He just wants...he doesn’t know what he wants, but Prompto is already giving it to him. There’s nothing else he needs to do to make himself better. He’s perfect as is.

He tries not to use the slang he normally relies on, wants his words to read like a love letter. 

**WaywardKnight: No it’s ok. You look amazing in anything. You’re perfect. You’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen and you’re definitely the best person on this website.**

**Chocoblow: Want to see a little more of me? ;)**

**WaywardKnight: Just wanna talk.**

**Chocoblow: mkay, mr. knight ;) what do u wanna talk about?**

There are so many questions he wants to ask but every one of them would give him away, so he disguises them all as one burning question. 

**WaywardKnight: Are you gay?**

**Chocoblow: I’m whatever u need me to be ;)**

Noctis should’ve expected that answer. It’s not like Prompto wouldn’t know that most his clients are dudes, so if he’s straight, he’s not going to say it outright. Still, he hopes it’s true, that Prompto can be what Noctis needs, at least for tonight. 

**Chocoblow: what do u want me to be?**

**WaywardKnight: I’m a guy.**

**Chocoblow: mmm I like guys. I’ll prove it to u ;) I owe u from last time anyway...**

Prompto moves offscreen and returns holding a flesh-colored dildo. He wordlessly adjusts the camera so Noctis can see his mouth, and just then he notices the little band on Prompto’s wrist. It’s the same one he was wearing when he left Noct’s apartment. The same one he always wears.

Without the costumes or gimmicks, this really _feels_ like Prompto, and it’s both the sensation Noctis craves and the one that terrifies him the most.

He tells himself it’s okay to live in this fantasy, just for tonight, to let it consume him whole, and he wills the consequences to become hazy as he watches Prompto sensually kiss the head of the toy before he slips it into his open mouth. His cheeks hollow as he encases it further, and Noctis watches those gorgeous pink lips at work, and his entire body aches with need.

It’s mesmerizing the way Prompto takes it slowly deeper. He’s so sensual with it, rolling his tongue across the length like it’s a delicacy.

His lips are wet and glistening when he glides it out of his mouth.

 **Chocoblow: believe me now?** **was imagining that was u ;)**

Noctis feels electricity flowing in every vein, crackling at his fingertips. He reads the words over and over until they echo in his brain, insistent and manic, creating a frenzy that threatens to override what’s left of his control.

He’s starved for just a little more, doesn’t know what he’ll do if he doesn’t get it. And it’s right here in his grasp, so he lets his hand slip into the waistband of his pants.

**Chocoblow: any requests 4 me?**

**WaywardKnight: could u take off ur shirt?**

**Chocoblow: I don’t usually but I’d do it 4 u ;)**

Prompto‘s hand sneaks up under his skin-tight crop top, and Noctis experiences the sensation as though it were his own fingertips, imagining the alluring sensation of being lost between Prompto’s soft skin and that tight fabric.

After that little bit of teasing, Prompto uses both hands to slowly peel it away and reveal the piercings Noctis has been dying to see, barbells going through perfectly plump pink nipples that Prompto teases with his fingers.

Noctis imagines he’s one of Prompto’s dream girls, blonde and gorgeous with big tits and a bubbly personality, imagines he’s exactly what Prompto wants. Wishes he hadn’t said he was a dude so he could give Prompto a fantasy he wants as badly as Noctis wants him.

He pictures taking one of those nipples in his mouth, nibbling on it or giving it a bite and imagines how Prompto might moan for him, lace his fingers into blonde hair and pull his mouth up for a kiss.

**WaywardKnight: wish I could see ur face. bet ur freckles are really cute.**

**Chocoblow: Sorry bb. I have to keep things private, but u can see *any* other part of me u want ;)**

As soon as he’s done typing, Prompto’s hands tease at the waistband of his sumptuously tiny black briefs.

**Chocoblow: what would u wanna do 2 me if u were here?**

Noctis wishes he could talk as dirty as Prompto can, but he can only say exactly what he means. 

**WaywardKnight: Kiss those piercings. I love them.**

**Chocoblow: mmm i’d love that bb. they’re extra sensitive right now...**

He watches a finger disappear into Prompto’s mouth and come back wet, toying at one of his nipples before his hand returns to the keyboard.

**Chocoblow: that’s not the only part of me that’s getting harder...**

Prompto stands, and Noctis’s screen is filled with a tight erection pressed against black fabric. 

**Chocoblow: I’m so hard for u bb. look what u did 2 me 🥺**

**WaywardKnight: Fuck**

**Chocoblow: was that an invitation? 😏**

**WaywardKnight: u really don’t need to do anything. I just like to look at u.**

**Chocoblow: u can do more than look bb. How big r u?**

Noctis doesn’t answer. He can feel his conscience pressing through the excuse that was the alcohol, and he knows so far, he’s done nothing that crosses the line any further than he’s already crossed it before. Maybe he could come back from this if he just stops it now.

Prompto produces a new dildo. A bigger one, one that’s honestly even bigger than Noctis.

**Chocoblow: is this big enough? ;);)**

**WaywardKnight: u seriously don’t have to**

**Chocoblow: its ok bb. I’m horny and I wanna get fucked.**

Noctis’s hand encases his desperate cock. It’s starting to ache now, and as if his dick wants to prove the level of his need, it twitches in anticipation at the mere ghost of his touch. 

He watches Prompto turn and bend over the chair so Noctis has a view of his entire ass, all curves and soft skin and plump flesh covered in black fabric that Prompto is slowly peeling away to reveal the most luscious ass Noctis has ever beheld. 

And Prompto doesn’t stop there. He reaches his hands back and spreads his cheeks open, revealing a hole that’s already been teased open.

Noctis feels the greatest pang of desire he’s ever had, of want, of need—to make Prompto his, for Prompto to want that too. 

It’s painful even as it electrifies him, this need to possess. He thinks about everyone else who’s seen Prompto do this on his channel, and he hates them for having this before him, as if he had some claim, some right just because Prompto is his best friend. They probably don’t even appreciate him, not like Noctis can.

Prompto’s lubed-up fingers are teasing his entrance now. He’s slowly opening himself up wider, and Noctis’s brain bends back to the last thing Prompto said: _I wanna get fucked._

He watches Prompto open himself, adding a third finger; and when he removes them, he makes sure Noctis can see just how wide he’s spread open.

Prompto takes the toy in his lube-slicked hand and gives it a few strokes before he pushes it at his entrance, and Noctis watches in awe as it goes inside, claiming the exact place Noctis yearns to be.

Prompto keeps going deeper and deeper until it’s all the way inside him, and he moans for it, his breath quickening. He sees Prompto’s free hand start to stroke himself, and that’s when he notices just how _hard_ Prompto is, like he actually likes this, like he actually gets off on Noctis watching.

And then, from nowhere, the image of Prompto from earlier returns, the Prompto who was nearly crying in his living room, the one who thought a single kiss on his neck was an unendurable violation, and he feels a deep panic filling him until his breathing becomes shallow and weak.

Prompto is still going at it, only now it looks garish and wrong, an abomination Noctis was never supposed to see. 

He thinks about just shutting his laptop, but he knows Prompto will worry, so he types a quick message.

**WaywardKnight: Ur amazing but sorry g2g.**

He drops the max amount of tokens out of guilt before he exits the chat room, and his screen fills with nameless strangers he’s jacked off to in the past. 

He feels empty and spent, and he knows he can never forgive himself. He’s ruined any chance he has with Prompto because even if he never tells Prompto the truth, Noctis will always know what he’s done.

He walks to his bathroom and takes two sleeping pills, the kind that make him lose focus for days on end, and he crashes into his bed and tries not to notice the indent Prompto left in the pillow, how he held Noctis in his arms right here in this very spot. 

He does sleep eventually, but then he wakes in the night, his phone screen lighting up and emitting a snippet of “Party in the USA,” one of Prompto’s favorite songs, a preference Noctis has teased him for mercilessly on more than one occasion. 

_Sorry about earlier. Can I come over tomorrow to talk?_

Noctis feels tears threaten, born from his exhausted brain as he realizes that after everything he’s done, Prompto is still the first to say he’s sorry, as if any of this were his fault.

Noctis throws his phone out of reach, hoping it breaks so he’ll have an excuse not to text Prompto back. He doesn’t deserve him, and he sees that more clearly now than ever, wonders if that’s the reason he hid his crush from himself all this time. Maybe he knew deep down that even if his arranged marriage and status as a prince didn’t fuck things up, Noctis would.

Because Noctis can never be as good as Prompto—as kind, as free, as open-hearted. He’s grown too used to closing himself off, trapping himself in an ever-smaller cage out of blind necessity.

Maybe if he wasn’t a prince...maybe if he was just Prompto’s neighbor. If he was just some woman and they met in the park...maybe they would’ve had a chance, but Noctis is Noctis, and there’s nothing he can offer Prompto that he’d ever want besides friendship, and now, maybe not even that. 

* * *

  
He’s awoken by gentle fingers stroking his hair.

In a sleep-drenched haze, he imagines it’s Prompto for a second, a halo of light around his face, but it soon reveals itself to be Ignis. Noctis squishes his face into his pillow and waits for the scrutiny to begin, the prying questions, the complaints about whatever it is he was supposed to do that he forgot about.

But it’s none of that. 

In fact, Ignis is blissfully silent, but as soon as Noctis wiggles, he removes his hand and places it at his side.

“Did you and Prompto have an argument?” 

His tone is gentle, consoling. It coaxes more of the truth from Noctis’s lips than he thought he’d care to admit.

“Kind of. I’m just not a good friend for him, and he’s starting to notice.”

“You’re a good friend,” Ignis assures him. “Prompto loves you just as you are, and I know you care for him just as much. You just show it in your own way, Noct.”

It’s a very _Ignis_ answer, and it honestly doesn’t mean much to him. He digs himself a little further into his pillow.

“Have it your way,” Ignis sighs. “Can you at least respond to his texts? He’s worried about you.”

“Did he tell you what happened?”

“Only that you didn’t return his calls...Prompto is very sensitive, you know. He takes little things like that personally.”

Just when Noctis thought he couldn’t feel worse.

“He’s always texting me,” Ignis continues, “making sure you’re alright. I might have to start offering him part of my salary at this rate.”

Noctis tries to smile for Iggy’s sake.

“I suppose what I’m trying to say is that ignoring problems doesn’t make them go away, Noct...Sometimes I fear I haven’t taught you to take care of your own affairs enough.”

“Not your job,” Noctis defends. He hates when Ignis acts like he’s anything but the tireless saint that he is, even though Noctis knows full-well he doesn’t appreciate his advisor enough.

“On the contrary. It has always been and _will always be_ my job...but alas, I’ll give you the day off today as long as you promise you’ll reach out to Prompto. He _is_ your best friend after all.”

Noctis nods into his pillow even though he’s still undecided on the subject. 

He feels a sudden urge to be alone, and he knows Ignis can sense it.

Ignis stands up and gives Noctis a little nod before he’s gone. Noctis listens for the sound of his apartment door closing before he forces himself out of bed and grabs his phone.

It’s a battle, but he decides Ignis is right. He tells Prompto he can come over later, giving himself a buffer of six hours to figure out how the hell he's going to tell him.

* * *

Nothing could prepare him for what he sees when he opens his door to Prompto’s timid knock. 

Prompto always tries to look fairly put together, like way harder than Noctis has ever tried (besides when Ignis makes him), but it’s obvious Prompto tried extra hard today.

He’s wearing his usual grunge punk look, but it all seems neater and cleaner, and his hair is perfectly done up, and Noctis wonders if he even maybe put on makeup or something because his eyes look exceptionally beautiful. He even smells good.

He’s got one hand in his pocket and a box of donuts in the other. It’s obvious he’s nervous, but trying to be confident, and it makes Noctis’s heart melt at the core. He lets Prompto stand in his doorway for way too long just because he can’t stop gawking at him.

To be fair, it doesn’t seem like Prompto is faring much better than he is. They’re both out of their depth, awkward, like they haven’t done this a million times. 

Noctis finally accepts the box with a trembling hand and lets Prompto in, getting another whiff of his delicious scent as he passes by.

He meant _not_ to feel this way, to not let himself get caught up in his pointless infatuation when it’s all about to come crashing down on him anyway, reminded himself that pining would only make it worse, but it’s like Prompto is trying to entice him by every means imaginable, only he’s not even trying. It’s just effortless because Prompto is perfect for him. Noctis just wishes he were perfect for Prompto, but instead he has bags under his eyes and still feels like shit.

“Um, did you want a donut?” Prompto asks, gesturing to the box.

Noctis picks the first one he sees without thinking, because he remembers what he’s supposed to already be saying but isn’t and wonders how to go about starting that conversation.

“Thought you’d pick that one,” Prompto grins. 

Noctis manages an anxious laugh and forces a bite into his mouth. “S’good,” he says to Prompto’s expectant look.

“Glad you like it...um, Noct...I’ve been thinking about last night…”

“Oh, uh, yeah?” Noctis says through a mouthful of donut. There are words filtering around in his mind, but he’s paralyzed by the earnest look on Prompto’s face. 

In truth, Prompto seems every bit as anxious as Noctis, but he’s handling it like a billion times better, and Noctis is in total awe of him. Noctis feels himself falling even deeper when he’s supposed to be clawing his way out.

“Well, I know you said you were drunk last night, but…” he pauses, clears his throat. “were you...I was kinda wondering if maybe you, erm, _did that,_ because maybe…” he trails off, his face entirely crimson as he looks away and scratches the back of his neck. He attempts to lean his hand on the counter for support, misses and catches himself before he falls sideways. He hops on the balls of his feet instead, eyes just barely glancing Noctis’s way before they’re on the floor again. 

Noctis experiences a rush of adrenaline, urging him to just spit it all out—his sexuality, his feelings, what he saw last night, just like he practiced all afternoon, but then he takes a deep breath.

He pauses, watches the whole scene play out in his head—how horrified and embarrassed Prompto will be, how he’ll never look at Noctis the same way again. 

He makes a deal with himself.

As long as he never tells Prompto he’s in love with him, he doesn’t have to tell him about the camming stuff.

That will be his penance for what he’s done wrong. Besides, he knows Prompto needs their friendship just as much as he does. 

Before he can even speak, Prompto does.

“Sorry,” Prompto shakes his head. “Shouldn’t have put you on the spot, dude. We’re...it’s cool. We can, like, _move on..._ if that’s what you want?”

It’s so _Prompto,_ desperate to diffuse the tension that Noctis keeps building with his silence, but he can’t deny the relief he feels. _It’s cool. Move on._

Noctis made the right choice.

“Yeah,” Noctis replies brightly.

“So, um,” Prompto squeaks, “did you see the new extension for the King’s Knight app?”

Noctis shakes his head, but he can’t even really fathom the question. His mind has been flooded with endorphins realizing he never has to worry about this whole ordeal again. 

This way he won’t lose Prompto, and they can just go forward, and it will be better for both of them.

Prompto pulls something out of his bag. It’s a present, wrapped with a ribbon and everything. There’s even a card, but Prompto quickly shuffles it out from under the bow and stuffs it in his bag.

He seems a little lighter too, a little less anxious, and Noctis takes that as a good sign that they’re doing the right thing by breezing past last night like it never happened.

“The card was dumb anyway,” Prompto explains, “but I hope you like the present. You probably already know what it is anyway…”

Noctis genuinely doesn’t. He opens it to reveal a framed picture of him with the cat. The frame looks expensive and well-made. He can’t believe Prompto threw all this together in one morning when Noctis could barely get out of bed.

He looks at the photo and feels a surge of affection for the photographer, his best friend who sees so much good in him he’s able to not only capture Noctis at his best but make it last.

“Thanks, Prom,” he smiles. “This is seriously the best present I’ve ever gotten.”

“Duuudeee,” Prompto blushes. “Glad you like it. So, uh, guess I should probably go? Sure you got all that prince stuff to do today.”

“No, uh, actually, Iggy let me off the hook... I was wondering if maybe you’d wanna stay? Best Friend Day 2.0, and uh, we can do it right this time,” he offers, feeling a bubble of nerves return.

Prompto soothes the bad feeling away. “Hell yeah, dude. I got nothin’ to do today anyway!”

It’s good. It’s perfect. This will be good practice for Noctis, a chance to get back to how things were before. 

Prompto plops down on the couch and Noctis shoves his laptop under a blanket when Prompto isn’t looking so there’s not a single reminder in sight.

They’re friends, just like they always will be. It’s for the best. 


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again for all the awesome comments!

To Noctis’s surprise, his plan actually _works_. Everything goes back to normal with almost shocking ease. Prompto still comes over on Fridays, they have Best Friend Days on the weekends. Everything is totally fine and (almost) normal. Noctis hasn’t even touched his laptop since the incident. 

He jacks off to his own imagination now, and if sometimes the guy he’s picturing looks an awful lot like Prompto Argentum, no harm done.

There are times when he thinks things get a little tense, like when Noctis allows himself to sit a little closer to Prompto on the couch than usual, but he’s not sure if the tension is one-sided or if Prompto feels it too. 

It’s just a normal Friday night a month later when Prompto comes over carrying a pile of pizza boxes.

“Beat you to it,” he grins as he hands over the dinner that Noctis usually insists on paying for.

“You didn’t have to, seriously Prom.”

“Nah, it’s all good. Got a job at the diner by my house.”

“The sketchy one we went to that night we got super wasted?”

Prompto blushes, “Well, yeah, but it’s not _as_ sketchy as I remembered.”

Noctis hates himself for making Prompto feel bad about his good news. “Yeah, probably only seemed sketchy ‘cause I was so hammered. That’s awesome, Prom,” he insists, feeling appeased by the relieved smile Prompto offers back. 

“The only problem is that I’ll have to start working overnight shifts, so...probably won’t get to do this anymore,” Prompto sighs. “I’m really sorry, Noct. I just needed the extra money...But like everything’s fine! I have enough—money that is, so don’t worry!” he quickly adds.

Noctis knows why he doesn’t want to bring up money, because Noctis will inevitably insist he could “lend” him some (and never allow him pay it back obviously), and he’s actually about to when Prompto interrupts.

“Seriously, dude. It’s fine. _People have jobs_. We can’t all be princes,” he teases, opening up a pizza box. “Just wish it didn’t mean we can’t hang out as much.”

“Yeah, me too,” Noctis says. He tries not to dwell on the fact that Prompto suddenly needs money when he seems to have a pretty successful camming career. Then again, Noctis doesn’t know what cam stars actually make or what Prompto’s personal expenses are. Frankly, he doesn’t even know how much his own apartment costs. Ignis just pays the bills when they come, and Noctis never thinks twice about it.

He wishes Prompto didn’t have to hold two jobs just to make ends meet, but he definitely doesn’t want to make him feel any worse about it.

“It’ll be okay,” Noctis assures him. “We can hang out on weekdays when I’m not in council meetings, and we always have the mornings. When are your shifts?”

“7pm to 3am,” Prompto groans.

Noctis tries not to show how disappointed he is that his magical best friend has to work a shitty shift at a sketchy diner. He wants to object on some princely grounds and see if he can get Prompto a job at the Citadel. 

He wonders vaguely if Prompto could join the Crownsguard. Then he’d at least get food and a stipend to help make ends meet (and Noctis would get to see more of him), but he doesn’t honestly think Prompto would go for it, so he doesn’t bring it up.

“Well, I’ll miss you. Dunno what I’m gonna do without you honestly,” Noctis says. 

“Got somethin’ that’ll make you feel better,” Prompto grins, whipping out the library’s copy of _Killer Klowns from Outer Space,_ one of their favorite campy horror films, from his backpack.

They finish their pizza and begin yet another drinking game that Prompto invented—drink whenever the klowns guzzle up human innards from a straw, whenever the ice cream truck appears, whenever a human gets trapped in cotton candy. Noctis has a nice buzz by the time the movie’s about half way in.

He gets up to make some microwave popcorn, and he has a moment where he thinks about pouring it into two bowls, one for him, one for Prompto, but he decides to pour it all in one instead.

He says it’s just because he’s lazy, but he knows it’s because he really wants an excuse to get physically closer to his best friend. Nothing really wrong with that. Two friends can share a bowl of popcorn, right? If it’s because he’s hoping maybe their hands will touch when they reach in the bowl at the same time, then yeah, it’s a little weird, but no weirder than how much time he’s already spent agonizing over this stupid decision.

He sits the bowl in Prompto’s lap and takes a seat right next to him so their hips are almost touching. Okay, it’s a little bit invasive, but they get this close sometimes when they’re in a particularly heated match of Beerio Kart. Besides, Noctis wouldn’t think twice about sitting this close to Iggy.

But there _is_ something a little erotic about dipping his hand into a bowl that’s in Prompto’s lap. And then there’s the way he can almost graze his arm on Prompto’s without being too weird about it when he reaches for another handful. 

He knows it’s insane and even embarrassing how wired he is on these insignificant touches. Even if he gets a little high from being close to Prompto, but he still manages to resist those overwhelming urges that are always threatening, then is it really so bad?

It’s like when he used to watch other cammers (before Prompto), just a harmless high to get him through each day. Of course, when he thinks about camming, he thinks about Prompto in rather compromising positions, and he feels himself getting hard, so he gets up and asks if Prompto wants another drink. 

He says no, so Noctis slowly gets himself a soda and takes a few deep breaths before he returns to Prompto’s side. 

“Here, you can hold the bowl,” Prompto offers, and Noctis has it in his lap now which is honestly a relief because it will be sure to hide any awkward boners, which he will probably get now that it’s Prompto’s hand dipping into _his_ lap.

He tries to be nonchalant about it, but the very idea of Prompto being close to him, invading his personal space, is so intoxicating, and he fantasizes that Prompto is feeling the same desires he is, even though Prompto’s eyes are glued to the television screen. 

He guesses they’ve been more quiet than usual, and it seems like Prompto’s been missing their cues to drink, which is strange because he’s usually super intense about it, but it’s not like Noctis is helping either. He can barely register what they’re watching with Prompto so close.

He starts imagining things he shouldn’t, like what Prompto would do if Noctis leaned in and kissed him or took his hand, but he still goes through the motions, stuffing popcorn into his mouth and trying not to focus on how good Prompto smells.

He’s trying so hard not to think about Prompto that he doesn’t notice their hands reach into the bowl at the same time, and their skin brush, and Noctis has perhaps the most embarrassing reaction possible. He startles, sending the bowl tumbling to the floor and the rest of the popcorn along with it. 

He expects Prompto to laugh and start teasing him right away, but he’s silent as he drops to his knees on the floor and puts the bowl upright, placing it on the coffee table and starting to put the fallen popcorn back into the bowl, piece by piece.

It’s weird, and what’s even weirder is that when Prompto suddenly jerks the bowl into his lap instead, Noctis gets a glimpse of his crotch, and it looks an awful lot like Prompto is trying to hide his own boner. Noctis is fixated on what it means, mostly on what he _hopes_ it means, but maybe Prompto’s mind drifted off, and he’s been thinking about some hot chick instead of watching the movie...but maybe...

Noctis realizes he’s being rude by not helping, even though Prompto doesn’t seem to notice nor care, so he kneels beside him and starts picking up popcorn too, but when they both reach towards the bowl at the same time, their faces are arrestingly close, and Prompto looks at him with his gorgeous eyes, and Noctis couldn’t look away if he tried. 

They stay like that, breathless, motionless, and Noctis has to scream at himself not to just kiss him, but then he sees Prompto’s face move towards his—maybe just an involuntary reflex, maybe not even what he thinks it means, but Noctis’s lips are tempted beyond his own self-control, and his lips crash into Prompto’s. 

His first kiss.

Prompto seems equally surprised judging by the way his lips don’t quite respond at first, and Noctis is already worried about how he’s going to explain it all away, but Prompto doesn’t give him the chance. His mouth parts so Noctis can take Prompto’s bottom lip between his. Prompto kisses him so gently and sweetly, and he loves the contrasting feeling of Prompto’s tender lips and the light scratch of his gloves as he cups Noctis’s face. Then Prompto’s hands move downward and wrap around Noctis’s waist, urging him even closer as the popcorn bowl clatters to the floor.

They’re both on their knees, and every bit of Prompto’s body is pressed against his, and he can feel the electric sensation of him, just as wonderful as he always imagined.

When their lips part, they just kinda stare at each other, breathing heavily, and Prompto appears every bit as dazed and surprised as Noctis feels himself. 

There’s enough lust in his eyes that Noctis feels bold. He locks their lips again and makes just enough space between them to glide his hands up Prompto’s waist so he can graze his fingers across those piercings he’s been fantasizing about for so long, and Prompto lets out the softest gasp of surprise when he does it.

Their lips part momentarily, and Noctis can’t stand the distance, so his hands rush instinctively to the sides of Prompto’s throat, and he pulls him in again. He lets his hips press into Prompto’s, seeking the slightest thrill of friction where their desire meets.

He feels so elated and alive even as his primal instincts take over, thinking over and over, _Prompto likes me._ It’s as if a hidden furnace has been ignited inside his heart. He feels so overcome with a sheer rush of pleasure, he can't contain it for another second. He speaks.

“Prom,” he says, and he loves how Prompto’s lips try to chase his like he can’t get enough, because that’s exactly how Noctis feels. “ _Wow_.”  
  
A thousand emotions are flooding his system along with the high that still radiates from Prompto’s touch.

“Yeah,” Prompto agrees, but when Noctis looks him in the eye, he can tell something’s off, and he starts to panic.

“You wanted that, right? You didn’t just do it because I—?” he asks, barely able to find the words he’s willing not to be true.

“No, I—I wanted that too, but...there’s something I need to tell you before we do, um, anything else.”

Prompto leans back on the balls of his feet, leaving Noctis bereft of his warmth, that bright energy that only seconds ago was fueling him.

“Oh, okay,” Noctis agrees, curious as he watches Prompto stand up and reach for his backpack on the side of the couch. 

“You know that, um...that card I was going to give you with your present? The picture?”

Noctis nods, barely comprehending the question, his brain still focused on the wonderful sensation that lingers on every centimeter of his skin that Prompto touched. 

“Well,” Prompto says, his eyes glued to the floor as he hands it to him. “You need to read that before you decide if you want to...well, you should read it.”

“Right now?” Noctis asks, feeling a creeping concern hit his gut. Maybe it’s a list of all the reasons they shouldn’t date, reasons Noctis knows by heart—his future betrothal, the public scrutiny, the fact that he’s not allowed to be gay.

The graveness of Prompto’s expression convinces him he’s probably correct. He doesn't think he can bear it, but he knows it’s important to Prompto, so he accepts it and begins to open the envelope.

“Actually,” Prompto blurts. “Maybe I shouldn’t be here when you read it, so you have time to think it over before you decide.”

He gets up to go, and Noctis can’t stand the idea of him leaving, so he stands too. “Please, Prom,” he begs.

“You don’t get it, dude,” Prompto sighs. “You might not want me to stay after you read that.”

Noctis looks into his imploring eyes, and he realizes that if he’s serious about dating Prompto, then he has a secret to confess too.

He pauses the movie and sits on the couch, and Prompto follows.

“Sorry, I…” The words die in his throat. Prompto is so innocent and vulnerable. _Naive_. And he knows he’s going to ruin that, possibly forever.

“I, um…Prom, I know that you cam.” He rushes out the words, and he can’t quite look Prompto in the eye.

“What.”

“I saw your channel. I didn’t know it was you at first, but then I, um, I figured it out…”

“What did you see?” Prompto whispers, his tone urgent, eyes fixed to the floor as his leg starts to shake.

“I saw you, um, a few times... dressed as Luigi, and then Misty, and then that night after I, um, kissed you…”

“How did you know it was me?” There’s a rising panic in his voice, and Noctis isn’t sure what it means yet, but he wants to get this over with as quickly as possible.

“I, um, I actually, uh...I realized it the first time I saw you…”

Prompto is silent, so Noctis just decides to press forward and get it all out. “That’s how I realized I had a crush on you. I saw your Chocobo plush and that necklace I got you in the background…”

“You knew it was me the first time and you didn’t say anything?” Prompto asks, and Noctis can see all his worst fears confirmed in his hurt expression, even though Prompto’s tone stays even, even though it looks like he’s battling the urge to be upset.

“I know it was wrong,” Noctis pleads. “I just thought you didn’t like me back, and I just wanted to...” he trails off, realizing there’s no way to justify it.

Prompto’s body tenses, and he pulls his legs onto the couch and curls his arms around them.

“So you like...you knew it was me...and you watched me two more times?”

Prompto can’t seem to grasp the depths of his betrayal. It’s like he’s waiting for Noctis to contradict him, but Noctis can’t. 

“Yeah, I...I didn’t see much the first time, but I saw you, um, jacking off as Misty, but then I logged out right after...and then, uhh...”

He can’t seem to mention the third instance. It’s clear he’s hurt Prompto enough, and he hasn’t even revealed the worst of it.

Prompto starts biting at his thumb nail. “So the last time, you like...what did you see the last time?”

Prompto looks like a cornered animal as his eyes bore into the coffee table, the blue glow of the television making it all feel so unreal.

“I’m WaywardKnight,” Noctis confesses. He thought it might feel good to finally admit it, but it doesn’t, especially when he hears Prompto’s response, just one small exclamation.

“No.”

Noctis has to do whatever he can to stop the sorrow he sees distorting Prompto’s every feature as tears form in his eyes.

“I don’t know why I did it, Prom. I just thought you didn’t like me, so I…”

He doesn’t finish the sentence because the more he says, the worse it sounds, because there really is no excuse, but he’s desperate to see some sympathy or understanding or anything in Prompto’s eyes besides that same broken expression.

“Oh,” Prompto says, like all the air has been sucked out of him. He curls into himself further.

“I’m so sorry, Prom,” Noctis pleads, thinking about reaching out his hand, wanting so badly to soothe him, but knowing he’s the last person who could do that.

Prompto sniffles and lets out a choked sob, his hand covering his mouth before he bites down on his index finger to stifle it. 

“You’re the last person I ever wanted to see me like that,” Prompto says softly into the silent room. It feels like the words echo under his skin and gnaw at his gut.

Noctis has never seen Prompto break down like this before. He’s barely ever seen him cry. He rarely loses his smile for more than a few moments, because Prompto is his sun and his moon, a constant brightness. Now he looks dim and lifeless, and Noctis feels helpless to fix what he caused.

“I’m so sorry, Prom. I’m so sorry,” Noctis sobs right back, the tears coming vicious and instant. He tries to stifle them because he knows he shouldn’t be the one weeping.

“I really...can’t talk about it...right now,” Prompto says through broken sobs, and it’s not even accusatory or angry or anything like Noctis deserves. It’s defeated and sad.

“Please, Prom,” Noctis whispers, not even sure what comes next. 

“I knew...I knew when I started doing it that someone might recognize me…”

It’s like he’s trying to console Noctis, to make _him_ feel better even though Noctis is the one who did everything wrong. 

He knows that if he begged him, if he told Prompto to stay right here with him, to come to his lap this instant and kiss him again, he probably would because Noctis has always had the power in their relationship, but he broke Prompto’s heart, and he knows he doesn’t deserve it, so he decides he has to let him go.

Prompto brushes at his tears as he stands. “I’ll text you, k?” 

“Yeah,” Noctis replies weakly, watching Prompto pick up his bag and make towards the hallway that leads to the front door, his posture slumped. 

He hears the door click shut, softly, like even in the throes of despair, Prompto can’t be anything but gentle. 

Noctis stares at the envelope on the coffee table for what feels like hours before he can bring himself to open it.

He reaches for it with a shaking hand and sees Prompto’s familiar, cramped scrawl, instantly recognizable from all the notes they used to pass to each other in class.

_Hey Noct,_

_Sorry I freaked out when you kissed me last night. The truth is I’ve liked you for a long time, like since the first time we met. There’s just something you don’t know about me that I was nervous to tell you and it might change your mind and if it does I totally understand._

_For the past few months I’ve been camming on a porn site. Maybe you don’t know what that means, and I def don’t want you to look it up so I’ll explain...I just kinda like do sex stuff in front of strangers online. I know it sounds weird, but my channel isn’t even that popular. I just needed some extra money and it paid really well._

_The problem is I used to show my face on camera, so there’s a small possibility someone could’ve recognized me at some point... I know if it ever got out that I did that it would look really bad for you, especially if we were dating so I deleted my account so we could date (if you still want to date me after everything I just told you)._

_I understand if it changes your mind. I still haven’t done anything with anyone irl. Promise. Was honestly kinda thinking one day maybe you’d be my first, but yeah...I understand if you don’t want to now that you know that._

_Hope we can still be friends but I understand why you might not want to. You can call or text or anything if you want to talk._

_No matter what, I’ll always care about you and I’ll understand no matter what you decide._

_< 3 Prompto_

Noctis sets it down on the coffee table, feeling the calm before the storm, a brief sedated sorrow that will turn into a rage that will soon boil over and cause him to do something he’ll regret. 

He goes to the bathroom and takes two more sleeping pills. 

He tries not to think about the kiss, the warmth that radiated from Prompto’s fingertips. He’ll never be kissed like that again, so he has to hold onto it. He tries to separate it from the aftermath, to keep one thing unsullied for when he’s married.

He wonders if that will be the last time he sees him. Prompto doesn’t live in his neighborhood, they’re not in school anymore, Prompto is not bound to Noctis in any way. 

It’s not like Gladio or Ignis where they fight, but he knows they’ll always come back, knows they can’t leave him, and he realizes that’s what’s always been so unbelievable about Prompto: he could’ve left a long time ago, but he chose to stay.

All these years they’ve been friends, he’s chosen to hold Noctis when he cried, to ease his loneliness, to make him pop tart sandwiches and tell him dumb jokes, and now the one person who liked Noctis just for Noctis, no strings attached, is probably out of his life forever, and it’s because of him. Noctis ruined it. The one thing that wasn’t just handed to him on a silver platter. 

He tries not to cry or feel bad for himself because Prompto is the one who should be upset.

But he can’t help but think how nice it would’ve been if just once he could’ve had something just because he wanted it. 

He picks up his phone, starts to write him a text and stops because what can he say? 

_Come back. Not because you want to, because I need you._

It’s selfish, so selfish. He turns his phone off, throws it on the floor, and crawls under the covers.

Maybe they could’ve had something. If Noctis were a better person, maybe they would have.

He’ll marry a woman. No one will know he’s gay. Maybe it’s simpler this way, maybe Prompto will be happier and better off.

The problem, of course, lies in the reality that he’ll never be happy without Prompto.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’d like to thank my bestie silvermoon1990 for reading over this last chapter for me ❤️
> 
> There’s no way this fic would’ve been completed so quickly without your freaking uh-mazing support! I’m seriously going to have to lower my expectations for all current and future WIPs because y’all positively spoiled me, and I am so incredibly grateful. 
> 
> This is officially the final chapter by the way! Hope you enjoy.

Noctis wakes up to the smell of bacon and the familiar, pleasant patter that means Ignis in the kitchen. 

He doesn’t think he can face his advisor just yet so he lies in bed, desperate to use his phone to distract himself, but terrified to see a message from Prompto. 

Maybe Prompto is really angry or worse, maybe he’s resigned, tempted to apologize to Noctis as though he did something wrong, and either way, Noctis will realize yet again the depths to which he doesn’t deserve his best friend.

Ignis appears in the doorway. “Thought I heard you moving around. You’re hungry, I trust?”

“Iggy…” He struggles not to break down at the concern that permeates Ignis’s features the second he hears Noctis speak.

“What is it, darling?” Ignis murmurs, taking a seat on the bed facing Noctis.

“It’s, um, Prompto and I...we got into a fight, sort of, or like...I really messed up, Iggy.” He struggles with the words, trying to decide what’s safe to say without giving away Prompto’s secret or, even worse, revealing what Noctis did to upset him in the first place.

“Would you care to tell me what happened?” Ignis asks, calm and patient as ever, even as his eyes express a sympathy that Noctis is sure he doesn’t deserve.

“I can’t tell you everything, but Prompto is really disappointed in me. I actually...I made him _cry_ ,” Noctis confesses, his voice breaking on the final word.

Ignis envelops him in strong arms and gently rubs his back, and Noctis allows himself to curl into Iggy’s chest.

“I don’t think he’s gonna forgive me...I don’t know if he _should_ forgive me,” Noctis whispers.

“Oh darling, I think you grossly underestimate Prompto’s affection for you.”

“You don’t know what it was like. I’ve never seen him so upset.”

“Well...I suppose the first thing you need to do is apologize,” Ignis suggests softly.

“Doubt he wants to talk to me right now.”

“Have you tried to reach out since this incident?”

Noctis is sure Ignis knows him well enough to guess the answer before he offers it.

“No, but—“

“Noctis, I don’t mean to lecture you in your fragile state, but you can’t tell me he won’t talk to you if you haven’t even made an attempt _.”_

“I _know,_ Iggy. It’s just...too soon.” 

Ignis backs away gently and lowers his gaze so he’s looking Noctis in the eye. “You need to face this head-on, Noct. Problems only become worse when you ignore them.”

“I _know,_ Iggy,” Noctis replies, exhausted at the very idea of facing anything right now.

“Though I’m tempted to call him myself, I have made a personal promise to allow you to solve some of your own problems from now on.”

Noctis considers trying to make Ignis break his promise, but instead he asks, “So...has Prompto texted you at all since yesterday?” He feels his body grow tense as he waits for an answer.

“He hasn’t, but—“

“That’s really bad,” Noctis panics, knowing Prompto and Ignis text almost constantly, usually about him.

“Please don’t read too much into it, darling. Prompto adores you. There’s nothing that could change that.”

“Maybe,” Noctis mumbles, not at all convinced. Ignis didn’t see the look in Prompto’s eyes, and he definitely doesn’t know what Noctis did, and Noctis would rather die than tell him and have Ignis be disappointed in him too.

Ignis gives him one last squeeze. “I believe you might make a better decision on a full stomach. What would you say to some bacon and eggs?”

Noctis nods and follows him to the kitchen. 

After a breakfast Noctis can barely bring himself to eat despite Ignis’s encouragement, Ignis does the dishes while Noctis lays his head on the table and worries about what to do next.

It’s true Noctis has always been better at avoiding problems than solving them. That’s why he’s always been lucky to have Ignis, but he knows what Ignis said is true—this is a problem he has to face himself, if only because he never wants Ignis to know what really happened.

Ignis quietly takes a seat across from him at the table, coffee cup in hand. He’s silent, a common tactic when he wants Noctis to speak first.

“I’m gonna do what you said. I’ll apologize to Prompto and just...hope for the best.”

“I’m proud of you, Noct. It’s the right thing to do, and I know he’ll appreciate it...If I might add one small suggestion?” Ignis asks before proceeding without pause, “If I were you, I might consider a phone call rather than a text. It’s much more personal, and communication tends to get lost when texting.”

Noctis nods out of habit even though the idea of calling Prompto disrupts what little peace he’s earned since waking.

When Ignis is gone, with a last few encouraging words, a hug, and a smile, Noctis’s apartment feels too quiet. He notices then that Ignis already picked up the popcorn and put away the bowl. He’s surprised the sound of the vacuum didn’t wake him up, but then again, he wouldn’t put it past Ignis to clean every kernel up by hand if only to give Noctis a single extra hour of sleep.

Everything is back in order, including the photo Prompto gave him as a present. He picks it up, gliding his fingers along the frame, and feels a little strength return from the reminder that Prompto really cares about him and always sees the best in him, and maybe that means Prompto can forgive him too.

He drags himself to his room and picks his phone up off the floor, forcing himself not to worm his way under his sheets in a desperate attempt to avoid what comes next. 

He turns on the phone, bracing himself for a barrage of texts from Prompto, but he only hears a single, unfamiliar ping.

He reluctantly tilts the screen towards his face and sees it’s a notification from his bank. It’s a deposit from Prompto Argentum. It doesn’t take him long to do the math and realize Prompto has returned exactly the amount Noctis spent watching him online.

He feels his stomach churn anew, anxiety pausing all normal function. It’s all so impersonal, like what Prompto’s really trying to say is goodbye.

When he thinks about it, he realizes he can’t remember the last time he woke up without seeing a message from Prompto, even just a _good morning_ or a dumb meme.

The silence speaks volumes, and then it dawns on him that Prompto is pretty much the _only_ person who texts him just to text him. Ignis almost always insists on calling, and Gladio only shoots one-offs to remind him of their training schedule. 

He’s crushed by a vision of the future without Prompto, one with long and lonely days where he wakes up to nothing and goes to sleep without anyone to wish goodnight.

He can’t let it happen, and if it does, it can’t be because he didn’t try.

He sees there _are_ some unopened texts from Prompto, ones he must’ve missed from last night. 

He opens them to an image of Prompto wearing a dorky, open-mouthed smile, holding up a pizza box in one hand and the _Killer Klowns from Outer Space_ DVD in the other.

_Got pizza and a movie dude. Hope ur ready to get crunk!!_

Noctis closes his eyes and makes a wish that this won’t be the last text he receives from his best friend.

He stares at Prompto’s expression in the picture, totally clueless to what he was walking into, and he almost loses courage until he reminds himself what Ignis said: _I think you underestimate Prompto’s affection for you._

He allows his finger to hover over the button for just a moment before he jams his finger down on the call button, bracing himself, not even sure what the hell he’ll say if Prompto picks up the phone.

It turns out there’s no reason to worry. His call goes directly to voicemail, and he feels a moment of relief when it’s not Promtpo’s voice he hears, but some generic woman telling him to leave a message. 

He panics again when he realizes he hasn’t planned what to say, and the words rush out before he can think them through.

 _Hey Prom, it’s me...Wanted to say I’m really sorry, and I hope that maybe when you’re ready we could talk? I’m sure you’re really mad at me, and I know I deserve it, but did you know you’re the only person who texts me? Thats probably a dumb thing to say, but...Well, if you want to talk to me then I guess you can text me—or call. Ignis says calling is better for clear communication, but he doesn’t know about gifs so...Guess what I’m trying to say is...I’m so, so sorry, Prom...When you—_ if you _can bring yourself to talk to me, then you can text or call whenever. Anyway, um, please call if you want. Or text. Bye, Prom._

He’s considering turning his phone off again because he doesn’t think he can stomach what Prompto’s going to say (or worse, _not say)_ , so he’s surprised when he hears it buzz shortly after.

_You can come over at 6:30 today before I leave for my shift._

The formality of the statement coming from Prompto—usually all dudes and hahas and lolz—hits him like a punch to the gut. 

Judging just from this one sentence, he already knows Prompto may never forgive him, might only be inviting Noctis over to tell him their friendship is over, but he has to be okay with that outcome as long as he has a chance to make things right.

He paces his room, fretting over what exactly he’s going to say, hoping it’ll work, not sure what he’ll do if it doesn’t.

* * *

An agonizing number of hours and minutes later, he’s standing at Prompto’s front door. Prompto lives in a beat-up, two-story row house in a part of town a prince probably shouldn’t be visiting alone, and that’s why he didn’t tell Ignis or Gladio where he was going.

He attempts to knock three times, but each time his knuckles succumb to his mind’s anxiety, and he withdraws his hand to the comfort of his pocket to check his phone again. It’s now 6:36pm, and he reminds himself he’s already late and Prompto has work. He knocks.

Prompto opens the door in what Noctis is sure is his work uniform—a white button-up with a black bowtie and matching slacks covered in a white and red striped apron. 

He looks really cute, and Noctis has the briefest fantasy of saying something about how he’d love to come visit Prompto at the diner sometime before remembering with a lurch of discomfort that it’s not even something he has the right to offer.

Noctis stares at Prompto’s feet and shoves his hands into his pockets and tries to come up with something, _anything,_ to say, but finds, with rising panic, that, despite all his practice, he has no idea where to begin.

To his surprise, Prompto speaks first. “Did you, uhh, know your shirt is inside out, dude?”

When Noctis meets his eyes, he sees Prompto’s expression has a tender edge to it that makes Noctis wonder if it’s all going to be okay, but it’s over too quickly before Prompto’s face turns grave, and Noctis wordlessly follows him inside.

Noctis has only been to Prompto’s place a small handful of times despite the fact that it’s the home Prompto grew up in, mostly alone, because his parents are always away. 

Everything is cramped, like the house got squished inward from the sides. They pass down the narrow hallway that leads to the kitchen. Noctis isn’t even sure if Ignis could cook in here without his head brushing the ceiling. 

The table is a cheap, turquoise plastic with white folding chairs. It’s quaint in a way, but claustrophobic in another, and Noctis doesn’t like being here for the same reason he always hasn’t—a reminder of the impoverished life Prompto goes home to, the tough existence he never tells Noctis about, a reality where maybe he sometimes has to skip meals or wakes up to the sound of police sirens, a life that’s rough, one where Prompto has to fend for himself.

Prompto sits slightly stooped with his arms folded like he’s trying to protect himself, and Noctis sits across from him, forcing himself not to cross his arms too because of what Ignis repeatedly taught him about _open body language._

He lets out all his anxiety under the table via one hand that silently picks at the hem of his pocket.

He forces himself to confess into the measured silence, “Prom, I’m so sorry for what I did. I really don’t even expect you to forgive me, but I just needed to tell you that I know I messed up, and you didn’t deserve for me to invade your privacy like that. I read your letter, and I know you quit camming just to be with me, and then I went and did _that._ I’m—“

“I just have a few questions I need to ask you,” Prompto interrupts, his leg starting to shake, sending a light vibration through the table that makes Noctis uneasy, especially when coupled with the return of the manic expression Prompto wore last night.

“Okay,” Noctis agrees, terrified by how much of his happiness rests on whatever comes next.

“After you saw me online, did you just kiss me because you wanted to hook up with me, or do you _actually like me?”_

The question is so preposterous, it’s almost difficult for Noctis to understand what he means by it. He struggles for words, starts and ends a few sentences in quick succession, before daring a glance at Prompto before he responds. “Prom, I _really_ like you, like more than I’ve ever liked anyone. I mean, I’ve never had a crush on anyone until, um, until I realized I had a crush on _you…_ ”

“But last night you said you never had feelings for me until you saw me camming,” Prompto insists, and Noctis tries not to read too much into the accusation in his tone, a voice that sounds so unnaturally bitter coming from his best friend that it frightens him,

“Well...When I look back, I think I’ve always had feelings for you, I just didn’t realize it. It was just that I’d never thought about you, like, _sexually_ before I saw you camming,” Noctis admits, feeling himself blush at the admission.

“Hmm,” Prompto considers, “Okay, then my next question is, did you...did you watch me so many times because you like, _got off_ on knowing you could pay me, and I’d do whatever you want?”

Noctis feels that one worm its way into his stomach. He hates that Prompto would ever think he’d feel that way about him, like Prompto was someone he could buy, but he supposes given what he did, it’s not that wild of a conclusion for Prompto to make. He speaks quickly, desperate to soothe the worried look on Prompto’s face.

“It wasn’t that I knew I could pay you…it was more like, I wanted to _forget_ I was paying you, like I wanted to pretend you were doing all that stuff because you _actually_ liked me. I know that sounds kinda...pathetic? But it’s the truth.”

“Why’d you give me so much money then? No one drops that kinda money without expecting something in return.”

The way he says it, so cynical and sure like he’s _been there_ gives Noctis pause, because he’s always seen Prompto as so totally untouched by practical and cold reality, so optimistic and guileless, and then he looks around the kitchen and hears a siren in the distance and realizes Prompto’s entire _life_ is bound by cold and practical reality, always has been, and he probably hides that, just so Noctis won’t feel guilty for everything he has. It makes him feel a little sick, seeing firsthand how much he’s willfully ignored about Prompto’s life for a very long time.

He studies his face for just a moment before he explains, “The first time...before I knew it was you, I did it because there was this guy trolling you, and I wanted to make him go away. It might seem like I’m making that up, but I’m not. Even before I knew it was you, I liked you...and then the last time...I guess it was because I felt guilty for what I watched you do.”

“Do you...do you think less of me because I did that?”

It’s finally a question that leaves no reason to hesitate. 

“Not at all. I was honestly really proud of how successful you were, and I thought your channel was really unique.”

Prompto lets the words settle before he speaks. “Ya know, I never thought I’d be able to admit this to anyone, but I was kinda proud of myself too.”

Prompto goes quiet again, so Noctis waits, trying to gauge his feelings with stolen glances, relieved when his leg stops shaking.

When he finally speaks, his tone is indescribably _Prompto,_ and he realizes what a relief it is, just to hear him sound like himself again.

“The thing is, I’ve liked you for _so long,_ and I pictured it in my head a thousand times what it would be like if you ever decided you liked me back,” Prompto reveals, eyes still steady on the table. “Didn’t think I’d _ever_ tell you this, but I read a magazine article about you when I was 10 where you said you liked Pokémon, and ever since then I dreamed about becoming your friend, but in a way kids from this neighborhood dream about anything—never believing it’ll actually happen...but then we became friends, and...I realized really quickly that I _liked you._ I knew you didn’t feel the same way, so I just tried to tell myself all the reasons it wouldn’t work so I wouldn’t be tempted to do something stupid.”

“I didn’t know, I promise,” Noctis pleads. “You always talked about women…I just assumed you were straight.”

“That was just a way to hide the truth. I mean, I _am_ interested in women, but I also like guys, and like...I think I always kinda knew you were gay because you never talked about women except when I did, and I think that made it worse because I knew you liked dudes, just not me…”

“I’m sorry, Prom. I wish I would’ve realized a long time ago. I’m an idiot for having you right in front of me all this time.”

“It’s...it’s okay,” Prompto says, “I just said that because I wanted you to know how much it meant to me when you made a move on me, but then I freaked out because I realized my camming might be an issue. Maybe if I’d just told you how I felt that night…”

“It’s not your fault, Prom. Seriously, I should’ve told you how I felt the second I realized it. I was nervous too because I didn’t think you liked me back.”

Noctis hears Prompto’s phone alarm buzz against the hard plastic of the table. “That means I gotta leave for my shift,” Prompto sighs.

Noctis watches him get up and straighten his apron and realizes he doesn’t have an answer to his most important question yet.

“I was wondering...do you think maybe we could still be friends?” Noctis asks, forcing himself to meet Prompto’s eyes. He’s relieved to see the familiar tenderness has returned.

“Yeah, Noct.”

“I’ll make it up to you, I promise.”

Prompto offers a brief smile before he turns and picks up a white hat lined in red that’s sitting on the kitchen counter. “This is part of my work uniform. Kinda embarrassing,” he says, as he adjusts it on his head.

“Nah, I think you look cute,” Noctis insists, feeling his face flush, worried it’s too much.

“Hah, thanks,” Prompto smiles.

It gives Noctis a little boost of confidence to say what’s on his mind. “You know...if it wouldn’t make you self-conscious, I’d love to like...go check out this diner again. Ya know, give it a second chance?”

“It’s really not _that_ great a place, but the waffles are pretty bomb.”

“Waffles sound great.”

Prompto grins, and Noctis can feel the tension melting away between them. Even if they never kiss again, he knows he’ll always be super lucky to have Prompto as a friend.

“Hey, uh, if you’re gonna, ya know, be out in public, you should probably fix your shirt,” Prompto suggests.

“Yeah, dude. _So_ embarrassing. Do you want me to change somewhere else or—?”

“Whatever you want,” Prompto squeaks, before turning beet red.

“You know what? After what I did, consider this like...a free show or something,” Noctis blushes, “not that I’m like even close to being as hot as you.”

He doesn’t meet Prompto’s eyes, a little nervous he’s crossed the line after the “friends” they’ve decided to be, but he does take his shirt off, and he slowly turns it inside out, so Prompto can ogle all he wants ( _if_ he wants) before he puts it back on.

When he does look at Prompto, it becomes obvious from his dazed expression that he was very much watching, which gives Noctis a surprising thrill and a grin that he can’t quite wipe off his face. 

He knows Prompto has to go to work, so it’s probably a bad time to have the conversation he’s now _dying_ to have about whether or not they can be more than friends, but he has a good feeling about it as he follows Prompto out the front door and stands on his tiny front porch, watching Prompto jam the key in the lock and struggle as he tries to turn it.

“This is like a fucking art form, dude. The house is like half caving-in so the door isn’t totally level, and—Awww yeah, second try!” he enthuses.

“It’s just this way,” Prompto says as he hops down his front steps.

Noctis thinks about offering him a ride. He knows Gladio and Ignis would flip if they knew he was walking around some neighborhood on the outskirts of Insomnia unattended, but even though he can’t quite explain it, he _wants_ to walk, to spend a minute in Prompto’s shoes.

“It’s just a couple blocks away,” Prompto says, and he’s right. They’re there in no time. The diner is quaint, kinda retro, a round building with large windows.

He follows Prom inside, fully prepared for people to gawk at him, but no one even turns their heads when they walk through the door. 

“You can sit here,” Prompto gestures at a table facing the street, “it’s the best seat in the house—good for people watching.”

Noctis does as requested, taking note of everything, the cracks in the table, the mismatched salt and pepper shakers. It’s charming, really, in a way the fancy places he goes to with his dad could never be. He feels truly content as Prompto arrives with a soda.

“So, uh, here’s the menu, and you get a 20% discount, so like _go wild,”_ he grins.

“What’s your favorite thing?”

“The grilled cheese and waffle combo is pretty good.”

“Yeah, sounds great.”

“Want chocolate chips in the waffle?”

“Hell yeah, dude.” He watches Prompto scribble down his order on a little pad of paper before he smiles fondly and disappears.

He’s quickly replaced by a plump, middle-aged waitress who wears a deadpan expression that’s rather intimidating. “You must be the fella Prompto’s always yammerin’ about.”

“Huh?”

“Only worked here for a week, and I know practically everything about ya.”

Noctis grins at that, not sure how to respond, so he decides to introduce himself. “Noctis,” he offers, putting out a hand.

“Darla,” she says, offering the slightest grin as Prompto arrives at the table. “This is that kid you’re always yammerin’ about,” she announces, shoving a thumb toward Noctis.

She disappears behind the counter leaving a ketchup-colored Prompto in her wake. He scratches the back of his neck. “I don’t talk about you _that_ much. I didn’t tell anyone you’re like, _a prince,”_ he whispers.

“All good, Prom. If someone recognizes me, whatever. I’m just here to hang out with you—and to try the famed grilled cheese waffle combo, of course.”

Prompto cheeses real hard at that, and Noctis happily stays for hours after his first meal is finished. He watches Prompto at work through the dinner rush and receives whatever scraps the kitchen doesn’t end up using from wrong orders to cold fries. Yeah, he might feel a little sick tonight from all the fried food, but it’s worth it for the way Prompto grins at him when he’s passing his table. 

He does have to text Ignis eventually, though he lies and says he’s at Prompto’s house, because a few people have noticed him and come to take pictures with him at his booth, pictures he imagines will probably end up on their social media profiles.

Knowing how diligent Ignis is, he’ll probably find out. Noctis just doesn’t want him to find out _yet_ , wants to have a little more time where it’s just him and Prompto in this delightful little fluorescent world with all sorts of interesting people coming and going, many of whom Prompto knows by name. Maybe it’s from working here, more likely from having grown up in the kind of neighborhood where everyone knows everyone, an entirely different world from the one Noctis knows.

All in all, it’s the most fun Noctis has had maybe ever, besides hanging out with Prompto, and he starts to feel an inkling of pride in his future role as king. He’s never seen Insomnia outside a very small bubble, and he’s got to say, there’s a lot more out here than he realized, a lot of people worth protecting and places worth improving.

After the rush, Prompto sits across from him on his 30 minute break while they share a huge pile of chili fries.

Noctis feels his pulse start to race as he rushes out the words he’s been trying so hard to get right. “Um, Prom...I just wanted to say that you make my life like a million times better, and I was really lonely before I met you, and when I thought you might not forgive me, it was the worst I’ve ever felt, because I just _really_ like you, and I honestly don’t know what I’d do if we ever weren’t friends.”

“Awww Nooooct,” Prompto blushes. “I seriously feel the same way.”

“And uhhh, I know that I’ll have my arranged marriage some day and we can never date publicly because I’m not technically supposed to be _gay_ , but...I was wondering if even in spite of that you wanted to maybe...be my boyfriend?”

“Yes,” Prompto blurts so quickly Noctis is sure he has a big, goofy smile on his face.

“Cool...So I guess nothing much will really change?”

“Except we can make out more,” Prompto grins.

“Yeah, ‘cept that.”

“Best Friends Day is now _Boyfriends_ Day.”

“Like the sound of that,” Noctis smiles, before he leans in. “And, one more thing, this diner is awesome and all, but if you wanted to quit and do your, um, _old job_ again…”

“No, I couldn’t.”

“I’m just saying...you were _so_ good at it, and it seemed like you really enjoyed it.”

“Yeah, I did, but—“

“Prom, I think you should keep doing it.”

“But what if someone found out?”

“That my boyfriend is a super hot and successful camboy? I mean, they can be jealous all they want,” Noctis shrugs, “but you’re still dating me, so…”

“Iggy would flip.”

“Then we don’t tell Iggy.”

“Noct,” Prompto grins, “You’re seriously unreal, you know that?”

“Dude, I’m not the one who looks like a fucking _sex god_ in a Misty costume.”

“Noooct…” Promtpo blushes.

“Just think about it. Besides, I wanna spend as much time with you as I can, so maybe it’s a _little_ selfish.”

“Wanna go back to my place so we can make-out for like,” Prompto glances at his phone, “seven minutes?”

“Seven minutes in heaven,” Noctis grins as he follows him out of the diner and back to his house.

The living room is dark, just the glow of the entryway light through the hall and orange street lamps through the windows.

Prompto rips off his apron and sits on the couch, pulling Noctis into his lap, and it’s the best feeling the way their chests touch, and he experiences Prompto’s heartbeat racing in time with his.

He straddles Prompto’s lap, pressing their bodies together, achieving a divine sense of bliss as he feels Prompto’s fingers snake up his spine and urge him even closer.

This is a thousand times better than their first kiss because there’s no reason to worry, and it’s obvious Prompto wants him back. He can feel it in the crash of their lips, how much desire there is, not as sharp or fast a rush as watching him online, but so much deeper.

He can feel Prompto’s erection underneath him, and he shamelessly grinds into it while they make out, indulging his every instinct as he becomes lost to the floods of sensation delighting every nerve in his body.

He feels Prompto’s palms lightly push at his chest, and he’s surprised when he opens his eyes to see that Prompto doesn’t look as drunk on pleasure as Noctis feels. 

“What Prom?” he whispers, pressing his forehead to Prompto’s because he can’t stand the loss of contact.

“Um, Noct, would you be upset if we _didn’t_ do anything except kiss for a while? I mean, obviously we can’t do that much now, but even when we have more time...”

“That’s totally fine. Kissing you is awesome. It’s like my new favorite thing.”

Prompto smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes.

“It’s just like…I _know_ I seemed confident on camera, but the truth is, I wear a lot of makeup and lighting to hide things I don’t want people to see. That’s why I hardly ever took my shirt off.”

“Oh, I didn’t realize,” Noctis says, not sure what to say to Prompto’s earnest expression when he’s sure he couldn’t care less about whatever minor imperfections Prompto thinks he has.

“I used to be overweight,” Prompto continues, “and my chest still doesn’t look how I want it to, and I have stretch marks I usually cover up.”

“If you’re trying to convince me you’re not insanely hot, Prom, it’s not gonna work. And like, your chest is...I didn’t know you had _piercings,”_ Noctis gushes.

“I thought they’d make my nipples look better, but ugh I don’t know. I hate them.”

“Prom...they’re like...my new fetish or kink or whatever. Like I’d never play Mario Kart again if I could just feel you up right now.”

“Duuude,” Prompto grins. “Okay, fine.”

“Fine?” Noctis asks, confused. 

“You can feel me up,” Prompto whispers, pulling out the coattails of his shirt and undoing the buttons one by one to reveal the most alluring sight Noctis has ever seen.

“Dunno what you’re talking about, Prom. You’re perfect,” he whispers as he leans in for another kiss.

* * *

**  
**

**_You have entered a private chat._ **

“Noooct,” Prom says, angling the camera to his face. He’s blushing. It’s so cute.

Noctis makes sure to turn on his own camera before he responds. “I didn’t, like, ruin your act, right? It looked like you were done, and I know you said you don’t get many tips at the end, so I thought it would be okay to interrupt?”

“Yeah, but you didn’t need to _pay_ just to talk to me! I would’ve texted you back as soon as I was done,” he grins, trying to protest even though it’s obvious he’s flattered.

“Couldn’t wait that long. I missed you,” Noctis says. “So...what’d you wear today?” he asks. He is always _very_ curious on the subject of what Prompto wears when he cams, especially in the rare instances when he misses the show.

“Oh, dude! I haven’t even shown you this one yet. You ready for this?”

“Doubt it.”

“But you wanna see it anyway?” he smirks, raising a suggestive eyebrow. Noctis loves how much more confident Prompto has become and how flirtatious and bold he‘s gotten since they started dating. It’s a different side of Prompto than he’s seen before, and he adores every second of it.

“Course,” Noctis agrees. “I mean, I never thought in my entire life I would tell you to put your clothes back _on_ …”

“Heh okay. Give me a sec.”

An agonizing minute later, Prompto returns onscreen, grinning like he knows that Noctis is about to lose his goddamn mind, and, well, he’s right.

Prompto is Cloud from Final Fantasy, only way hotter. Noctis didn’t even notice the way he’d done his hair before (distracted by the sight of his bare chest and adorable face), but it’s _perfect,_ and he’s got a black crop top and leather shorts. He’s even got the belt and suspenders, one shoulder pad and the gloves and everything and ugh, it’s like seriously the best thing Noctis has ever beheld.

“Prom. You _have to_ wear that for me when I come back.”

Prompto grins, “You got it. But like seriously...should I just end the chat and call you so the site isn’t charging you?”

“Honestly, I like seeing you in high def, especially now that I know what you’re wearing. Worth it.”

“Nooooct,” Prompto protests, though he knows it’s only half-meant. 

“You can use the money to take me on a date or something if you _really_ want, but honestly I would hand over the entire royal fortune to see this. So, um...could you please send me a picture of you in that outfit before you change?”

“What do you need a photo for?” Prompto teases.

“ _Dude!_ I have three more days without you. Don’t judge me! Speaking of, when are you going live next?”

“Depends. When are you free?”

Noctis smiles. “I’ll consult with management and let you know. Oh by the way, I have a surprise for you.”

“Yeah?” Prompto grins.

“I, um, I got a little something special to wear for you too. I figured since I get to watch you dress up all the time, I would return the favor, and when I saw this hat in a costume shop here, I was able to throw it all together...Please hold,” Noctis says as he goes offscreen and strips his clothes off, putting on a pair of denim booty shorts, a black crop top, short-sleeved vest, green, fingerless gloves, and the infamous baseball cap that makes the entire look recognizable. In truth, he’s been piecing this outfit together for a long time.

He stands in front of the mirror, briefly checking himself out to make sure he didn’t miss anything before he stands far enough away that Prompto can get the full effect.

“So do you—what do you think?” Noctis asks, suddenly feeling nervous, worried that Prompto won’t like it.

Prompto just stares at him, open-mouthed for what feels like a full minute.

“Can you turn around?” Prompto finally asks. “Just like, do a spin. _Slowly.”_

Noctis does as requested. 

“That’s the best thing I’ve ever seen,” Prompto says reverently. “I’m getting out my Misty costume, and we’re gonna do some super kinky shit, dude. I hope you’re ready.”

“Oh I’m ready.”

“Duuude, Ash Ketchum has been my crush since like _forever.”_

“Coulda guessed that,” Noctis beams, happy all the hours he’s spent finding each part of the outfit have been worth it.

“You could _totally_ be a camboy. I mean, if ya weren’t like, so busy being a prince.”

“No way. You’re like a thousand times better than I’d ever be.”

He hears a knock on the door.

“Oh shit, dude. That’s prolly Iggy. I gotta change.”

“Gotta catch ‘em alll,” Prompto sings, and Noctis laughs. 

He gets close enough to the screen that they can’t be overheard even though he’s like 99% sure Ignis already knows they’re dating, but has admirably adopted a _don’t ask, don’t tell_ approach, so he doesn’t have to bother telling the king.

“Love you, Prom. Can’t wait to be home again.”

“You’re coming over to my place first thing when you get back, right?”

“First thing,” he smiles.

“Love you too, Noct.”

Noctis can’t stop smiling as he ends the chat and changes back into his regular clothes. He honestly doesn’t think he’s _stopped_ smiling for the past three months, and that’s just one of the reasons he feels so lucky to be in love with his best friend. 


End file.
